


Secondhand Soulmate

by AnnoyinglyCute, Inell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Activist Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bullying, But he grows out of it, Childhood Friends, College Student Derek, College Student Stiles, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek is Two Years Older, Discrimination, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up Together, Happy Ending, He feels unloveable, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Kissing, Lawyer Derek Hale, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Mutual Pining, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Requited Unrequited Love, Romance, Roommates, Soulmark Discrimination, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stiles is bullied as a kid, Supportive Derek Hale, Takes Place Over 22 Years, Time Skips, Trope Subversion/Inversion, silly nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnoyinglyCute/pseuds/AnnoyinglyCute, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not always, not even most of the time, but sometimes --  24% of the time, statistically speaking -- people meet their soulmates and live happily ever after.</p><p>THIS isn't that story.</p><p>This is the story of Stiles Stilinski, whose soulmate died before he was born.  This is the story of all the sorrows and heartache Stiles experienced, all the bullying and oppression from those who should know better but didn't.  This is also the story of the friendships Stiles made along the way, of the battles he fought -- and won -- and the love that endured through it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shout-out to E, I, and H for the support when this fic took over my brain & demanded I write it. Also huge thanks to S for the amazing art that was inspired by this fic & to E for the beta. And a big group hug to E, S, C, and R & team What What in the Butt that has made this summer so fun and Sterek-filled!
> 
> I used all of the bonus prompts for this round. The lyrics that were used as inspiration are the start of each chapter. This story means a lot to me, so I hope y'all enjoy it! The Playlist created for this story can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIV2ggULYAwmS5enfdLuCGP3kvdgOH4lD)!
> 
> If this story is one of your two favorites for this week's Sterek Summer Spectacle, please go vote for team What What in the Butt!

 

_Here we are again, circles never end_

_How do I find the perfect fit_

_There's enough for everyone_

_But I'm still waiting in line_

_Who doesn't long for someone to hold_

_Who knows how to love you without being told_

_Somebody tell me why I'm on my own_

_If there's a soulmate for everyone_

**_Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield_ **

 

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Stiles, just let it go. He’s not worth it.” Cora tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, but Stiles ignores her. Jackson Whittemore has that awful smile that makes Stiles feel like crap, and it makes his hands twitch because he wants to smack it off Jackson’s face.

“Cora’s right. You can’t get caught fighting again, Stiles.” Scott reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “Jackson’s a poop head anyway. Just ignore him. He’s trying to get you into trouble.”

“I wouldn’t touch him, McCall. His bad luck might rub off on you,” Jackson says, his words making Scott squeeze Stiles a little harder.

“Maybe it’ll rub off on you when I punch you!” Stiles tries not to hate people because his mom tells him that it’s not right to feel that way about anyone, even if some of them maybe deserve it, but he really does hate Jackson. Ever since they met at daycare, Jackson’s picked on him because of his soulmark. Stiles didn’t even know anything was really wrong with him until that first day of class when Jackson made him cry and his parents had to explain all kinds of things to him. It had made his mom cry and his dad upset when they had to tell him about the scar on his wrist and what it meant. Jackson’s the reason Stiles knows he’s broken, and that makes him hate him even more.

“Jackson, c’mon. Let’s go play basketball.” Danny is pulling on Jackson’s arm now and giving Stiles a sort of weird smile like he’s sorry Jackson’s an idiot. But Danny’s Jackson’s best friend, so Stiles doesn’t care about any weird smiles because that means Danny must agree with every terrible thing Jackson is always telling Stiles because he’s not telling him to stop talking. Almost everyone else does, too, which is why it hurts so much.

“My father says that it’s a curse to be born like you,” Jackson tells him, ignoring Danny’s offer to play basketball. “No one will ever love you because you’re defective.”

“Your father’s a jerk,” Cora says, stepping in front of Stiles and shoving Jackson. “ _You’re_ defective, not Stiles. Stiles is perfect. He’s better than you’ll ever be, and you know it!”

“Don’t touch me, Hale!” Jackson glares at Cora and takes a step forward like he’s going to fight her. “You’re so stupid. You and McCall both. He’s going to make your lives terrible because that’s what happens to people like him. You know I’m right but you just don’t wanna admit it.”

“You’re not right about anything.” Scott steps forward, but Stiles stops him because Scott doesn’t like fighting. This is Stiles’ problem, so he’s not letting his friends get hurt. Then they _will_ hate him, just like everyone else seemed to once they realized he’s broken and not normal.

“Cora, is everything okay?” Stiles looks over to see Cora’s older brother, Derek, walking over to them with some older kids following him. He’s carrying a baseball bat and has dirt on his pants, probably from sliding to base. Stiles bites his lip to keep from crying because Jackson’s not stopped talking for ages, and he wants to punch him but he also wants to curl up and cry because everything Jackson says is true.

“No, it’s not okay.” Cora keeps herself between Stiles and Jackson, knowing that he’ll get suspended if he gets into another fight because his parents have even been brought in to talk to the principal about it, and it’s only been three months since first grade started. “Jackson’s being a meanie, and he’s trying to get Stiles to hit him so he’ll get kicked out of school.”

“Am not!” Jackson looks at Derek and seems to get smaller as he shifts around on his feet like he’s getting ant bites. Derek’s almost ten, and he’s taller than all of them, plus he’s carrying a bat, so maybe Jackson’s scared of him. Jackson frowns at Stiles like it’s his fault Derek’s there. “I’m just trying to help your sister. Everyone knows Stilinski’s damaged, and it’s not good for her to be around him. He’ll mess her up, too.”

“Shut your mouth, Jackson. The only one damaged here is you because you’re stupid and mean.” Cora raises her arm like she’s going to punch him, and Stiles reaches out to grab her arm at the same time Derek steps between her and Jackson.

“He’s not worth it, Cora,” Stiles says, hating that he sounds so tired and sad because it makes Jackson smile that awful way, like he’s won a fight they didn’t even have.

Derek looks at Stiles and frowns before turning to look down at Jackson. “You should go play somewhere else. My sister doesn’t need your help.” Derek moves his bat over his shoulder, and Stiles can see how tight he’s holding it cause his fingers are almost white. “And Stiles isn’t damaged. Whoever told you he is was wrong.”

“My dad isn’t wrong. He’s smart and knows everything.” Jackson looks at Stiles and glares. “You know what you are, Stilinski. You probably hope you’ll make them just like you but it won’t matter because you’ll always be alone. No one will ever love you.”

“Enough.” Derek grabs Jackson’s neck and leans down, whispering something to him that has Jackson’s eyes widening and a look of fear on his face before he’s scrambling back into Danny. “Get out of here.”

“That was awesome,” Cora whispers as she watches Jackson hurry away with Danny following him. “What’d you tell him, Derek?”

“Nothing.” Derek looks at them and shrugs. “He’s a mean kid, and he shouldn’t go around saying stuff like that. Stiles, you shouldn’t listen to him. He doesn’t know anything, and his dad doesn’t, either.”

“Yeah.” Stiles looks at the ground because he’s embarrassed that Derek had to come stop Jackson. He still feels like he wants to punch something and cry all at the same time, and he wishes his mom was here because he doesn’t want to cry in front of his friends. He’s lucky to have any friends at all; he knows what people think about him and what they say, and it hurts so much to think about losing Scott and Cora.

“Hey, why don’t we go to the library? You can find a new book to read,” Scott suggests, knowing the library is one of Stiles’ favorite places ever. “You said you already finished the books we got last week.”

“Don’t wanna.” Stiles rubs his fists against his eyes, which are stinging a little bit and itchy. “Wanna go home.”

“I can see if Mrs. Fields will let me call my mom. She can come get us early,” Cora says, bumping against Stiles’ side. It’s Cora’s mom’s turn to pick them up after school, which is why they’re still here. She works in a different town so they have time to play before she gets there on her days. Usually, they have fun being some of the only people left at school, but Jackson had to ruin it today.

“Cora, why don’t you and Scott go play? I’ll walk Stiles home since he doesn’t live too far. Mom can pick me up from his house,” Derek says, reaching out to ruffle Stiles’ hair, his fingers scratching lightly. “I’m tired of playing baseball anyway.”

“Do you wanna walk home with Derek, Stiles? Or do you wanna call Cora’s mom?” Scott touches Stiles’ arm to get his attention. “Derek’s right, you know? You shouldn’t listen to Jackson. He doesn’t know anything.”

“He really doesn’t. I mean, he thought Han Solo was in Star Trek,” Cora reminds him, grinning when he raises his head to look at her. “He’s just a dumb old boy with an even dumber dad.”

“Everyone knows Han Solo is in Star Wars,” Stiles agrees, feeling a little better. “Except Scott, who still won’t watch the movies with us.”

“Space is scary,” Scott mutters, frowning as he looks at the sky. “What if there are things up there right now planning to kill us all?”

“Star Wars isn’t that scary, but it’s okay. You can watch it whenever you’re ready,” Stiles tells him solemnly, knowing Scott worries about stuff like that sometimes. He looks at Derek, who is smiling at them in a way that shows off his teeth. “Can we walk home? I don’t wanna wait for your mom.”

“Course we can, Tigger.” Derek hands his bat to Cora. “Can you bring that home for me? I don’t wanna carry it when we’re walking.”

“Sure. I’ll smash Jackson’s face with it if he makes any more comments about Stiles.” Cora grabs the bat and grins at Stiles. “I’ll see you when we pick up Derek. C’mon, Scott. Let’s go threaten Jackson!”

“Cora, we shouldn’t do that,” Scott says, punching Stiles’ arm lightly and grinning at him before chasing after Cora.

“Maybe I should have just carried the bat,” Derek says quietly, shaking his head as he watches them run.

“It’s okay. Cora won’t actually hit Jackson. She’ll just scare him, and he deserves it.” Stiles picks up his backpack and starts walking to the gate that’ll let them leave the school grounds.

“Jackson’s a bully who wants to make other people feel bad because he doesn’t like himself much,” Derek says, sounding sort of like Stiles’ dad when he tells him something serious. “You shouldn’t listen to him. You’re a good kid.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for several minutes, just kicks at rocks on the sidewalk as they walk. When they turn down another street, he finally finds the words. “He’s right, though. I’m defective. Everyone knows that.”

“No, you aren’t.” Derek stops walking and looks at him with an odd look on his face that Stiles doesn’t really understand. “You can’t let people like him make you believe those things about yourself. You’re different, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, there is,” Stiles whispers, looking at the scar on his left wrist. He rubs his thumb over the mangled skin that’s raised up and twisted over where his soulmark would be if he weren’t broken. “I hate it. I hate seeing it every time I look down. He’s right, Derek. No one is ever gonna love me because my soulmate’s already dead. I’ve heard other kids talking, saying they probably died because they hated me so much they’d rather be dead than be my soulmate.”

“They’ve told you that?” Derek’s voice is so quiet that Stiles almost doesn’t even hear it.

He looks up and nods, eyes stinging again as he rubs them fiercely and tries not to cry. He’s heard stuff like that since Jackson noticed the scarred soulmark in daycare, and it just gets worse as they get older because they’re learning more about soulmarks and soulmates in school now. “Mrs. Fields says it’s unusual for someone to be born like me, with a dead soulmate, and she tries not to talk about it in class cause she knows it makes me sad, but the other kids are always asking questions and stuff to remind me about what I am.”

“They shouldn’t even be talking about that stuff in class,” Derek says, sounding like he did the time Cora broke his favorite model car last year when he got mad and upset. “You can’t keep fighting them all, though, Tig. Cora’s told us that they want to kick you out of school for fighting, and we know how much you love to learn. That’s letting those jerks win.”

“I feel better when I punch them,” Stiles admits. He’s never even told his mom that, but this is Derek, who’s one of the nicest and best people Stiles has ever met. “It makes them shut up and leave me alone, too. I broke Greenberg’s nose last month when he was talking about my soulmate killing themselves to avoid mating with me, and he’s not said anything mean to me since.”

“God, those kids are horrible.” Derek makes a face as they start walking again. “I’m only nine, and my friends would never say stuff like that to someone without a soulmark.”

“Yeah, they would.” Stiles snorts and rubs his eyes again. “I’ve even heard adults saying stuff like that when they don’t think I can hear them. You’ve seen the movies and TV shows, too, Derek. Soulmarks are important to everyone, and everyone wants to find their soulmate. It’s the bestest love ever, the reason we’re born, and not having a soulmark means it’s pointless to even be alive.”

“I don’t want you to ever say that again, Stiles.” Derek gives him a look that Stiles doesn’t understand, like he’s scared but they’re just talking so he’s not sure what Derek’s scared of. “Just ignore all those people. They don’t know anything. Soulmarks aren’t all that great, and you can still love someone even without one. Different isn’t always bad. I mean, you won’t love someone just because some mark on your wrist tells you that you’re supposed to, so it’s better not to have one. You know?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugs and walks a little faster. He knows Derek’s trying to make him feel better, but it’s not really helping that much. There’s a scar on his wrist that’s too big to ignore that lets him know every time he sees it that he’s never going to find a soulmate that completes his life perfectly the way the stories talk about. He doesn’t really know what love means, like how it’s going to feel, but he knows people marry their soulmates and have families and are happy together forever because that’s how everything should be, and he’s never going to have that because his soulmate died before he was even born.

They’re mostly quiet during the rest of their walk to Stiles’ house. Derek tells him about some prank the third graders pulled on their teacher, and it makes him laugh because it’s silly, but he’s still sad and a little angry the way he always gets when kids pick on him like Jackson did. When they finally get to his house, he sits on the front porch stairs to wait for Derek’s mom to pick him up.

“Thanks for walking me home, Thumper,” he whispers, looking at Derek and smiling when he sees Derek make a face at the nickname and turn red cause he always get embarrassed whenever Stiles calls him that. But he calls Stiles Tigger a lot, so Stiles doesn’t feel too bad. Besides, Derek’s got bunny ears and teeth like Thumper, so he thinks it fits.

“I’m not a rabbit,” Derek mutters, pouting as he scrapes his thumbnail against flaking paint on Stiles’ porch rail. “But you’re welcome. You feel any better, Tig?”

“Tiggerific.” Stiles smiles as he elbows Derek’s arm and makes Derek smile at him. He really isn’t that great, but he does feel better. Derek tried to make him feel like being broken and defective isn’t a bad thing, and Stiles doesn’t really believe it, but he’s glad he’s got friends like Derek and Cora and Scott because they help make him not feel so alone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_ _

_Show me a smile then_

_Don't be unhappy, can't remember_

_When I last saw you laughing_

_If this world makes you crazy_

_And you've taken all you can bear_

_You call me up_

_Because you know I'll be there_

**_True Colors by Cyndi Lauper_ **

 

The Hale house is full of laughter and the holiday spirit. There are Christmas decorations and lights covering the yard and house, twinkling brightly in the darkness of Christmas Eve, and there are fires burning in each fireplace despite the fact that it’s still in the high forties outside. The smell of sugar and cinnamon is heavy in the air, mixing with the scent of the pine tree to capture the aroma of Christmas better than any candle or potpourri sold in stores. The sound of the Spice Girls singing Wannabe doesn’t quite fit with the holiday theme, but it does accompany the dance that Cora and Lydia are doing better than Jingle Bells would.

The girls are wearing crop tops and leotards as they dance around and giggle together. Cora giggling is still just wrong in a lot of ways, and Stiles can’t help cringing every time he hears it because it’s just _not_ Cora. Cora’s always been a tomboy, tougher than him or Scott, and now she’s becoming all girly and weird. It’s Lydia’s fault, of course. Stiles knows it is because that’s when Cora started paying attention to fashion and hiding pink undies with lace trim whenever he visited her unexpectedly. The swirls on her left wrist are now surrounded by vibrant colors, a matching mark on Lydia’s right wrist, and Stiles knows the mark is the reason she’s changing.

Lydia Martin, the new student who arrived at Beacon Hills Middle School on the first day of eighth grade in Versace, of all things, with flower perfume trailing after her poufy red hair. For a moment, Stiles remembers having a pang of interest because she was beautiful, but the swirls of black on her wrist had made him look away. Then she ran into Cora during lunch, and those swirls had been awash in color, and they’d lost Cora to her. Well, not really lost since they basically gained Lydia, who had plans to be the Queen Bee at school and take over the most popular title from Belinda Hawkes. And Lydia might be a sharp-tongued cheerleader with aspirations for popularity, but she’d earned his loyalty when she defended him against Jackson’s usual ‘Stiles sucks and is bad luck’ bullshit.

So Stiles just tries to accept that Cora’s become more girly under Lydia’s influence because he likes Lydia. She’s smart, nearly as smart as he is and even smarter in some areas like math, and she doesn’t believe in a lot of the soulmark propaganda that everyone else their age seems to think is gospel. They’ve had a lot of talks during lunch about soulmarks and how people get treated because of something on their wrists that doesn’t really mean anything about who that person is, and she agrees with him on most of it. She’s actually given him links to research papers that support the belief that not finding a soulmate doesn’t mean someone will never be loved.

He’s tried not caring about that much because he’s dealt with his scarred mark since he was born, but he’s thirteen now, and everyone around him seems to be flirting or trying to find their soulmates or deciding to enter into casual relationships until they do find their soulmates. No one ever flirts with him or even suggests having anything casual with him because of his mark. They think he’ll infect them somehow or ruin their chances at finding their real soulmate, so he knows dating isn’t going to happen any time soon. Scott’s not dating anyone either, though, so they can at least hang out when Cora and Lydia are doing the cliché soulmate things together that make Stiles more jealous than he cares to think about cause it makes him feel guilty.

They’re teenagers now, ready to enter high school next year, but he isn’t ready for things to change again. Too much has changed lately, and he’s having trouble adjusting to it all. The Hales have welcomed him and his dad into their family for the holidays, but Stiles almost wishes his dad had declined their invitation because he’s not feeling festive at all. It’s helping distract his dad, though, so he’s trying to pretend that he’s just fine. He’s put his dad through enough the last thirteen years, after all, so he deserves at least one day to just forget that his kid’s defective and he lost his soulmate three months ago.

Stiles closes his eyes as he feels the overwhelming need for his mom to hug him. It’s the first Christmas without her, and he misses her so much. She got sick early in the year, was in the hospital by the end of summer, and she barely even remembered him most days he visited by the time school started, so he never got to tell her about Cora meeting her soulmate or about Lydia verbally demolishing Jackson in Stiles’ defense or about Derek making captain of the Beacon Hills High School Varsity basketball team as a sophomore. He also never got to tell her about the fact he’s figured out he likes boys, too. He hasn’t told his dad about that yet, not sure how he’ll take it when Stiles is already such a fuck up with the whole no soulmate thing and history of fighting and suspensions at school that never seems to be balanced by the fact he’s got the highest grades in his year.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Laura’s joined Cora and Lydia. Laura’s wearing a hot pink tutu and matching pink heart shaped sunglasses as she moonwalks on the rug before tripping over the coffee table. The laughter is a little too much for him, so he quietly leaves the room and heads to the living room. His dad is watching football with Cora’s dad, her uncle Peter, and her three older brothers. It’s such a cliché that he wants to groan at the Hales for enforcing gender stereotypes this Christmas Eve. He’d read a lot of Cosmo and Woman’s World when his mom had been in the hospital, and he knows all about that stuff now. The men watching football and the women either baking or dancing around to female empowering music is definitely an example of the gender stereotype thing.

Stiles doesn’t bother sitting down. He can’t stand football. Baseball is his favorite, not that he plans to play on a team like Derek does. Stiles likes to watch baseball and enjoys hitting a ball around during summer with the Hale kids and Scott. Recently, he’s started gaining a fondness for basketball that’s totally Derek’s fault because Stiles tries to never miss one of his home games. Derek’s one of his best friends, so he needs to be there to support him. The fact that he’s also got a pretty intense crush on Derek doesn’t help much, either. As the announcer talks about interceptions and touchdowns, Stiles finds himself staring at the swirls of darkness on Derek’s left wrist while rubbing his thumb over the scar on his own wrist.

It’s so stupid to get a crush like this. Derek’s never going to be his. No one will ever be just his because his soulmate is dead. There’s no perfect person out there waiting for Stiles to find them. He accepted that years ago, but it doesn’t mean it stopped hurting to think about being alone his whole life. His mom used to tell him that he was going to find someone one day that loved him for who he was and not for whatever mark’s on his wrist, but she’s been gone for months now. It’s become more difficult to remember those words and believe them since he no longer hears them whenever he gets sad. It’s easier to believe that he’s going to always be alone now that she’s not here to tell him differently.

His dad makes a comment about the game and reaches for a bottle of beer that’s on the table. It distracts Stiles from staring at Derek’s soulmark, and he’s soon looking at his dad’s wrist. The colors that used to be so vibrant and alive are now faded, washed out like watercolors left outside in the rain. There’s a lot about the soulmark mythology that no one understands and that not even the best scientists can replicate, so it’s just accepted as ‘that’s how it is’ by the masses.

Stiles has been studying soulmarks and soulmates since he was old enough to understand most of the words, and he still doesn’t have answers for most of his questions. It’s just accepted as fact because no one has ever disputed it. It’s definitely true around the world that when someone loses a soulmate that they’ve bonded with, the colors that appear upon meeting fade and the black remains dark as a reminder of the mate they’ve lost. But when someone loses a soulmate to death that they’ve never met, the soulmark becomes a scar like the one Stiles was born with.

People treat both marks differently. One earns respect and admiration, sympathy from everyone for losing a soulmate that had been part of your life, support for the broken bond severed only by death. The other earns ridicule and cruelty, the taunts of never being loved and not being enough for a soulmate who is lost before ever being found. It’s so frustrating to Stiles that the world is the way it is because it’s the same thing. He and his dad have both lost their soulmates. Only his dad was lucky enough to have his for over fifteen years before losing her whereas Stiles will never even meet his. If anyone deserves sympathy and support, it should be those like Stiles who never have a chance to find the person meant to be theirs.

When he realizes he’s scraping his nail over his scar, he blinks and drops his hand. He catches Derek looking at him curiously and forces a smile before he turns to leave the room. Stiles follows the smell of cookies to the kitchen, where Cora’s mom and grandma are making desserts for Christmas dinner tomorrow. He can smell ginger, chocolate, and peanut butter heavy in the air, and it makes his stomach growl.

“Something smells delicious, Mrs. Hale,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes and giving her his best ‘I’m a sweet boy who needs a cookie’ look.

“Stiles, I’ve told you dozens of times to call me Talia.” Cora’s mom gives him an affectionate look that makes his stomach churn because it reminds him so much of his mom that he can’t stand it. “Would you like to be our taste tester? We need to make sure that all of these taste as good as they smell.”

“Uh yeah.” He clears his throat and nods eagerly, sliding onto one of the stools kept by the kitchen island. “I’m good at tasting food. Especially cookies.”

“Don’t listen to him, Mom. If you give him too much sugar, he’ll never be able to sleep tonight.” Derek snorts when Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.

“No one asked you, Thumper. Go back to watching men grunt and throw a ball around. We’re doing serious stuff here,” Stiles tells him, reaching for the plate of cookies that Gran hands him.

“Be nice, dear. There’s plenty to share.” Gran looks at them both so Stiles isn’t entirely sure which one of them she’s telling to be nice. Maybe both of them. “Derek, why don’t you get you and Stiles some milk before you sit down? That’ll help the cookies taste even better, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, Derek. Get me some milk,” Stiles says sweetly, picking up a still warm cookie and taking a big bite to gloat that he’s eating cookies while Derek’s stuck getting drinks. The cookie is delicious, and he moans appreciatively as he chews. After he swallows, he licks chocolate off his lips and gives Talia a thumb’s up. “This kind is definitely Stiles approved.”

“Glad to hear it.” Talia smiles and looks over his shoulder. “Derek, you should shut the door so you don’t let all the cool air out.”

 

Stiles looks over and sees Derek standing by the open fridge with the carton of milk in his hand. Derek turns around, the back of his ears an interesting shade of red as he closes the door and gets two glasses out of the cabinet. Stiles stares at his butt because he’s thirteen and discovering that things like butts and boobs are fascinating in a way that he never paid much attention to until recently. Derek’s got a nice butt, but Stiles likes it even more when he’s wearing his baseball uniform because his pants are _tight_. When Derek hands him a glass of milk, he takes it and smiles likes he hasn’t been staring at an off-limits butt. “Thanks, Derek.”

“You’re welcome.” Derek’s fingers drag across the back of Stiles’ hand, and it makes Stiles heart race in a way that’s probably not all that good because it’s definitely not a friendly sort of feeling. Derek gets his own glass of milk and sits on the stool next to Stiles, bumping their knees together as he gets comfortable. “Which one did you just try? It sounded, uh, good.”

“That kind.” Stiles points and then picks up a different cookie. He can smell the ginger as he brings it up to his mouth. “It’s really good. Chocolate and peanut butter together is the best combination. Nothing’s better than that.”

“It’s alright,” Derek decides after taking two dainty bites. Stiles just stares at him as he chews on the ginger cookie. “Too much chocolate, though.”

“There’s no such thing, Derek.” Stiles is talking with his mouth full and doesn’t care because Derek’s words are blasphemous. How dare he question the excellent peanut butter and chocolate mixture that made Stiles’ taste buds sing? He sees Derek’s lips twitching and narrows his eyes. “You’re being a butthead.”

“It’s just cookies, Tig. You’d have thought I’d insulted you or something.” Derek laughs, knocking their knees together and making his bushy eyebrows look judgmental. That’s a skill that Derek’s been learning since he turned twelve, and Stiles still doesn’t understand everything in the Eyebrow Language, but he knows judgmental when he sees it.

“ _Just cookies_?” Stiles punches Derek’s arm. “It’s not just cookies when it’s chocolate peanut butter goodness. That’s worse than insulting me, dude. There’s obviously something wrong with your taste buds. You should get that checked out by a professional.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek reaches over and steals a cookie off of Stiles’ plate and takes a big bite out of it. “Mmm. Better than chocolate peanut butter easily.”

“Boys, why don’t you take the cookies into the game room and get out of our way?” Talia gives Derek an unreadable look, and Stiles wishes he knew what it meant because she looks sad for a moment. Then she blinks and he wonders if he just imagined it because she looks normal. “And don’t eat so much that you’re not hungry for dinner later.”

“Okay, Mom.” Derek gets off the stool and actually helps Stiles get down because he knows how clumsy Stiles can be, memories of falling off these stools pretty common because Stiles always manages to get his feet tangled up somehow.

“I still think you need professional help if you think the sugar cookies are better than chocolate peanut butter,” Stiles mutters as he follows Derek downstairs to the basement slash game room.

“Yeah, well, _you_ need professional help for caring that much,” Derek says, reaching out to ruffle Stiles’ hair like he’s done since they were kids. Only Stiles buzzed all his hair off during the summer when his mom was sick because his dad didn’t have time to take him to get it cut, and he’s just been shaving it himself since she died. So Derek’s rubbing his head instead of his hair, and Stiles bites his lip because Derek stops moving and stares at him for a moment in an awkward sort of way. Then Derek’s dropping his hand and looking like the time he ran over Scott’s foot by accident with his bike and almost broke his toes.

“Can we watch a movie instead of playing a game?” Stiles asks when it’s quiet for too long. He doesn’t much like silence, not when someone else is with him, and this isn’t the good kind of silence that he and Derek have sometimes when they’re reading or doing homework together. It’s just weird. Sort of like so many other things in his life right now.

“Sure. I don’t care. Choose whatever you want.” Derek sits down in the recliner that’s his dad’s favorite, not on the sofa where he usually sits, and Stiles wonders if he made him mad with the teasing about the cookies.

“’m sorry,” he whispers, refusing to look at Derek as he browses through the DVDs. “I was just teasing about chocolate peanut butter. Sugar cookies are good, too.”

Derek sighs, and Stiles can hear the squeak of leather as he moves. “It’s fine, Stiles. You didn’t make me mad. I made myself mad. I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind. _I’m_ sorry for…well, whatever.”

“It’s okay. It’s been a weird day anyway.” Stiles chooses a DVD and puts it in the machine before going to sit on the sofa. “First holiday without my mom, and first one with Lydia here. I’m happy for Cora, I really am, but I’m also…” He trails off and shrugs.

“Jealous?” Derek moves out of the chair and sits beside Stiles where he usually sits. “I can understand. My baby sister found her soulmate before I did. I’m glad Lydia’s good to her, but it still makes me wish...I don’t know. That things were maybe different somehow.”

“At least you’ve got a soulmate still,” Stiles says, staring at his scar. “There’s something to look forward to and all. Anyway, you’re only fifteen. Most people don’t find their soulmates until they’re older. I’m jealous and it’s spiteful of me because I’m never gonna have that.”

“I’m turning sixteen tomorrow.” Derek nudges his arm gently. “And it isn’t spiteful. Besides, what is it your mom always said? You’ll find someone amazing one day who loves you for you are and not because a mark on their wrist tells them to love you.”

Stiles looks at him and can’t help but smile. “Yeah, that’s what she used to say. Like word for word. Good memory, Derek.”

“It was important,” Derek says, looking down at his wrist and rubbing his thumb over the dark swirls. “Sometimes, I think the world’s got it all wrong. That this mark is the curse and not having one is freedom.”

“It’s not really all that freeing.” Stiles nudges Derek this time. “C’mon. We’re getting all serious and depressed, and we shouldn’t 'cause it’s Christmas. Let’s watch a good action movie or three to distract us from whatever’s got your mind all crazy today.”

“Good plan.” Derek looks at the television and scoffs. “Seriously? The Rock? This is the best you could choose? Out of all our movies? Nicholas Cage is in this.”

“You’re whining, Derek.” Stiles grins. “Anyway, what’s wrong with Nicholas Cage? He’s had some good movies. Scott makes me watch that romance one about the eighties and mallrats all the time, dude, and it’s pretty funny.”

“He’s just odd. Something about his face bothers me. Stiles, stop smiling like that. You look demented.” Derek shoves him playfully, and Stiles laughs.

“You’re demented. It’s a good movie. We can watch Die Hard next, though. I know you really like that one.” Stiles settles in comfortably and starts the DVD, snickering as Derek starts a snide commentary that’s actually way more enjoyable than the movie.


	3. Chapter 3

_I can't fight this feeling any longer_

_And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow_

_What started out as friendship, has grown stronger_

_I only wish I had the strength to let it show_

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever_

_I said there is no reason for my fear_

_Cause I feel so secure when we're together_

_You give my life direction_

_You make everything so clear_

**_I Can’t Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon_ **

 

“Thank you so much for trying to help us, Stiles. We really appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Rachel. I just wish you didn’t have to go through all of this nonsense.” Stiles stands up and gives Rachel a hug before turning to do the same to her partner, Luke.

“Unfortunately, the world isn’t going to change overnight, but Erica told us about the work you did a couple of years ago with the soulmark restrictions that had been in place in the freshman dormitories,” Luke says, moving his arm to rest on Rachel’s hip. “She told us that you’d be the one who could help if anyone could.”

“Erica’s confidence in me is appreciated, but I’m not the miracle worker she likes to pretend I am,” he says modestly. With Cora and Lydia attending Stanford and Scott at UCLA, Erica Reyes had stepped into the role of best friend easily when they met during freshman orientation at Columbia three and a half years ago. She seemed to feel it necessary as his best friend in NYC, the title she’d given herself, to brag about his work with the student government to anyone with a soulmark problem.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rachel tells him. “I saw you speak at the rally against soulmark discrimination at city hall several months ago, and you’re really inspiring. I, for one, am glad you’re on our side.”

“It’s ridiculous that they’re trying to pass public policies based on fairytales about soulmates without any quantitative data to back up their suppositions.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair and grimaces. “I’ve spent twenty-one years being targeted by pro-soulmark propaganda that is really only applicable to thirty-eight percent of the population and only twenty-four percent even get the happily ever after, but almost anyone you ask is going to be convinced that it’s all true.”

“See? That’s why Erica says you’re a miracle worker. You’re passionate about the cause in a way that engages other people.” Luke smiles. “Let us know if you’re able to find anything that’ll help us fight the ruling.”

“I’ll start researching tonight,” Stiles promises, waving goodbye as they leave the coffee shop. He sits back down and finishes the last of his lukewarm coffee while reading over the student housing policy for Columbia University. Luke and Rachel aren’t soulmates. Rachel’s mark is faded completely, like grayscale whorls on her skin, and Luke’s got a scar similar to Stiles. Rachel and her soulmate rejected their bond, her mark visible proof of an unsuccessful match. The discrimination faced by those who find their soulmate and choose to terminate the bond is often worse than those who never even meet their soulmates.

The fact that Luke and Rachel have fallen in love and chosen to have a civil ceremony to recognize that love is preventing them from receiving student housing for grad school at Columbia. The apartments are for married couples only, and the governments in many countries refuse to acknowledge anything other than soulmate bonds as legal marriage. Fortunately, there’s been a movement growing in recent years that’s hoping to change that around the world. Stiles is just happy that he’s been able to get out of Beacon Hills to meet people who are like him, who won’t ever find their soulmates, and who also think the world is fucked up for being discriminatory about soulmarks.

It’s been so eye-opening to participate in an advocacy group that he joined freshman year. He’s been able to find out information that even Lydia hadn’t ever read before, and it’s helped him come to terms with some of his own self-hate and insecurities. He now understands that his soulmate’s death had nothing to do with him; he hadn’t even been born yet. The scar on his wrist is no longer given the power to make him happy or sad. He has reached a point where he’s accepted who he is, and people can fuck off if they don’t like it.

It’s just regretful that he couldn’t have reached this particular place back in high school, which had been pretty rough when still surrounded by soulmark discrimination and hateful people. When Scott met Allison sophomore year and their marks had flashed with vibrant color, it had become more difficult. That had also been the year when Derek had gone to college, attending school across the country and only visiting for Christmas and spring break. It had hurt a lot to be the fifth wheel without even having Derek there as quiet support in the way he’s always seemed to be, but Stiles had survived it.

Of course, the fact that he applied for Columbia because that’s where Derek attended is just a coincidence. He did apply for the same schools as Scott and Cora, too. Since he ended up being salutatorian, missing valedictorian by less than half a point, he managed to get accepted into every school he applied for plus received scholarships from them, too. Columbia costs a lot, plus it’s all the way in New York, but there hadn’t really been any other choice to make. Not after he visited Derek over spring break his senior year and fell in love with New York City. It’s not somewhere he wants to settle down and raise a family, but it’s definitely somewhere he can go to college and live a little.

After finishing his coffee, he gathers up his stuff and leaves the shop. It’s just after five, so he decides to walk home instead of taking the subway the two stops to his street. It’ll be packed this time of day, and he’s not overly fond of crowded subway cars. A couple of blocks away from the coffee shop, he gets his phone out and calls Derek. When he hears Derek mumble a greeting, he ignores the way his heart beats just a little faster. He’s had a lot of practice at ignoring how he really feels about Derek, years in fact, so he’s gotten pretty good at it.

“Hey, Thumper,” he says, arching a brow when a woman walking past him looks startled at hearing his greeting.

“Don’t call me that, Tig,” Derek grumbles. “Where are you? It’s almost six.”

 

“I told you I was meeting those friends of Erica’s, remember? The soulmark discrimination thing for student housing.”

“Oh right. Sorry. I’m buried in case reviews, and I can barely remember my own name right now.”

“You sound exhausted.” Stiles steps to the side to avoid running into a group of kids. “I’m going to grab food on the way home. Have you eaten?”

“Nope. I got in from class at eleven and started reading. I didn’t realize it was this late until you called. Why don’t you stop at Marta’s and get us something? I’d do possibly illegal things for their stromboli right now.”

“Really? Possibly illegal, huh?” Stiles laughs. “No need to put your future law career in jeopardy, Der. I’ll bring you a stromboli without any required reciprocation.”

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re a saint, albeit one with a crooked halo.”

“Saints don’t have halos. That’s angels you’re thinking about. Saints have tragic backstories and make sacrifices in the name of religion.”

“Angel, saint, whatever. You’re wonderful. Now stop talking and bring me food. I’m starving.”

“Bossy bossy.” Stiles grins. “I’ll see you in fifteen.”

The grin remains on his face after he puts his phone up, lasting until he’s nearly at Marta’s. It eventually goes away because he remembers that being infatuated with Derek was okay when he was thirteen but isn’t as acceptable now that he’s twenty-one. Derek’s soulmark is still dark, just waiting for him to meet the person he’s destined to be with for his happily ever after. A person that isn’t Stiles and never will be no matter how much he sometimes wishes it would. Only sometimes because anything else would be pathetic and ridiculous.

In a way, Stiles almost wishes Derek _would_ meet his soulmate because that would be a firm end to any feelings Stiles has for him. Stiles might be halfway, possibly _more_ than half, in love with Derek, but he’d never try to break up happy soulmates, after all. Unlike a lot of cases that he’s learned about over the last few years, he knows that Derek’s soulmate will be perfect for him, like the other half of his soul in all of the ways the romance movies always claim is the way it goes. Because Derek’s the best person that Stiles has ever met, and he deserves someone who completes him in every cliché way possible.

The knowledge that he’s only got Derek on borrowed time is always there in the back of his head. He never knows if today will be the day Derek runs into his soulmate, and Stiles will be alone again. Well, he’s alone in a romantic sense regardless, but he and Derek have been sharing an apartment since his sophomore year at college, so he hasn’t really felt alone in a long time. They share their space really well, having a friendship that’s become even stronger than his relationships with Cora, Lydia, and Scott. There’s a mutual respect between them that makes Stiles feel like an equal, in a way. In all the years they’ve known each other, Derek’s never once made him feel lesser just because of the scar on his wrist.

Maybe it’s time to go to a club again and find someone casual so he can get off. Whenever he starts feeling too emotional about Derek, he usually goes out to find someone to fuck because it reminds him that there are some things in his life that he’ll never be able to share with Derek. Luckily, he’s living in New York City now, and there are plenty of people who don’t care what mark you’ve got on your wrist when it comes to mutual sexual satisfaction. Hell, he could even find someone to date more seriously if he wanted, but no one he’s tried dating can compare to Derek, so he’s pretty much given up on it for now. The sex is never all that satisfying, either, so he doesn’t make it a habit, but sometimes he needs that visceral reminder that he’ll never have Derek that way.

It doesn’t take long to get the food. Derek already called ahead with their order so it’s actually waiting when Stiles goes inside. Their apartment is half a block away, so the food is still hot and delicious smelling when Stiles finishes walking up three flights of stairs, but he’s sweaty and hot and cursing broken elevators when he finally unlocks their front door. “Elevator’s broken. Again,” he calls out in greeting, dropping his book bag on the floor by the table and setting the food down.

“Oh yeah. It was down when I got home, too. Sorry I forgot to mention it.” Derek stumbles out of his room and yawns. He’s wearing an old t-shirt that’s too small and a pair of sweatpants that are too big. Stiles has to look away before he’s caught staring at the bare hipbone that makes his teeth itch to bite down. “How was your meeting?”

“Good. I think I found something in the housing guidelines that can be used to help them plead their case, but I need to do more research before I tell them anything for certain.” Stiles gets two bottles of water out of the fridge while Derek gets plates. “It really pisses me off that they’re even being forced to go through all this. I mean, they’re married. Sure, it’s not some mythical soulmate bullshit, but it’s obvious they love each other anyway. I hate that so many people fall for the propaganda instead of realizing that love can exist with or without a soulmark.”

“I’m glad you’ve found something that might help them. Let me know if you need me to look over any legal jargon.” Derek touches the small of his back and leans in to brush a kiss against his head. “With you on their side, I’m sure they’ll be successful fighting the ruling.”

“Between you and Erica, I’m going to start getting arrogant,” he mutters, reaching up to rub at his hair where Derek had kissed him.

“Hmph. Erica can step back. I’ve been the president of the Stiles Stilinski fan club since I was six, so I outrank her,” Derek says in a pompous tone that’s a definite imitation of Jackson Whittemore. Stiles tries not to laugh but isn’t successful, so he ends up making this awkward snorting sound that makes him blush because it sounds ridiculous.

“You have not, so shut up.” Stiles sits down and kicks at Derek’s leg. “When you were six, you were telling Cora that I was too energetic and she needed calmer friends.”

“Cora lied to you, obviously. I never said such things,” Derek denies, grinning in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and Stiles’ gut twist painfully. Unconsciously, he rubs at the scar on his wrist, the physical reminder that he can’t ever have this balancing out the _feelings_ he can’t control.

“How was class today?” Stiles knows it’s an abrupt change of subject, but he doesn’t really care. Derek blinks at him, his smile fading as he studies Stiles intensely for several quiet moments. Stiles is the one who looks away first, focusing on his stromboli and cutting it into more manageable sections.

“Class was fine. My professor loves me, I hate my group members, and I’m continuing to wonder how crazy I am for deciding to pursue law as a career choice.”

“It’s not crazy. You enjoy it, and you’re good at debating.”

“I was planning to be a history teacher, Stiles. I never intended to wake up one day with the goal of applying to law school.” Derek nudges his leg with his foot until Stiles looks at him. “You’re the one who inspired me, so it’s your fault I’m exhausted and cranky all the time.”

“Me?” Stiles huffs a laugh. “You can’t blame me for that, Derek. Law was your choice, probably because you realized teaching horrible kids wasn’t going to make for a happy future. Besides, you should be glad that you at least know what you’re going to do with your life. I graduate in like seven months and don’t have a clue how I’m going to use dual degrees in poli sci and sociology. Dr. Uliom is trying to persuade me to get my master’s in sociology, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea or not because it just means more debt and being a cranky grad student like you are now, but I don’t really know any other options that sound that appealing, either.”

“I can blame you when it’s your fault.” Derek shakes his head. “Your issues with the dorms freshman year really made me start noticing how screwed up some of the laws are, and it definitely inspired me to try to do something to help change them so that people like you can have a better life without having to fight so hard all the time.”

“You’re serious.” Stiles blinks at Derek and realizes this is the first time he’s ever heard why Derek decided to apply for law school. Sure, he’d teased Derek before about it only being because he didn’t want to return to Beacon Hills without Stiles but he hadn’t realized how his own struggles had impacted Derek in any kind of inspirational way.

“No, I’m Derek,” he says dryly, eyebrows judging before they lower into an expression Stiles can’t translate. “You should get your master’s if you’re able to because you’d be able to use that as a springboard for advocacy. You’re passionate about soulmark discrimination and helping people fight the system, so that’s what you should consider trying to do with your life.”

“You aren’t funny, Thumper.” Stiles kicks at Derek’s leg before he takes a bite of his food and thinks. “I don’t really know if advocacy is a career option. I mean, the movement is really new still, and it’s not like it’d pay much if I did decide to pursue something like that. I mean, I don’t live an expensive life, unlike _some_ people, but I still need to pay the bills.”

“ _Some_ people happen to enjoy nice sheets and a pretty view from their apartment, both of which _other_ people get to benefit from for free,” Derek points out. He eats a few bites before he speaks again. “You should look into it if it’s something you’d enjoy. Anyway, you talk like you’re going to be alone forever. You know that’s not true, regardless of what those stupid kids used to tell you back in Beacon Hills.” Derek looks at him steadily. “Someday, you’re going to fall in love with someone who’s going to make you realize how pointless soulmarks are.”

Stiles can’t breathe for a moment. It’s like he’s forgotten how as he stares into Derek’s pretty eyes. When he can finally remember how, he’s the one who looks away, picking up his bottle of water and gulping down half of it. He clears his throat before focusing on his stromboli. “Yeah, maybe, but what are the chances they’ll love me back?” He looks up when Derek doesn’t reply, seeing that Derek’s staring down at his wrist and frowning.

Finally, Derek sighs and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “How could anyone not love you back, Tig? I don’t think it’s even possible.”

“Yeah, well, you have to say that because you’re my best friend,” Stiles murmurs, staring at Derek’s face unashamedly because he can while Derek’s looking away. The strong curve of his jaw, the stubble that’s growing into an actual beard, the lips that he’s dreamed about touching with his own so many times he stopped keeping track. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask Derek if he could ever love him back, could ever be with him like Luke and Rachel are, but the words never spill from his tongue because he doesn’t want to hear Derek tell him no.

“I might be biased because I’m your best friend,” Derek says, looking at him again and smiling crookedly, “but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true anyway.”


	4. Chapter 4

_ _

_So I'll come by and see you again_

_I'll be such a very good friend_

_Have mercy on my soul_

_I will never let you know_

_Where my mind has been_

_Angels never came down_

_There's no one here they want to hang around_

_But if they knew_

_If they knew you at all_

_Then one by one the angels_

_Angels would fall_

**_Angels Would Fall by Melissa Ethridge_ **

 

The lunch meeting with a potential new client ran long, but Stiles doesn’t mind because he always has Erica schedule extra time for any new client meetings. He’s learned over the four years he’s been doing this job that people sometimes need extra time before they’re able to talk about the problems they’re facing due to soulmark discrimination. His client, an elderly woman named Agatha, had taken half an hour before she felt comfortable enough to tell him about her grandson, who was attempting to take her home because the marriage she’d had with her late husband hadn’t been a soulmating. Cases like this always frustrate him because the laws are ridiculous, and he’d had to stop by the gym on the way back to work to spend fifteen minutes with a punching bag so he’d be in the right frame of mind to deal with his afternoon appointments.

The offices of Better Tomorrow: Soulmark Discrimination Advocacy Group are quiet when Stiles gets back from his business lunch. Over the last couple of weeks, Lydia’s been meeting with different witnesses for a client filing against the San Francisco Fire Department that’s becoming more complicated than originally planned, so she’s down in the Bay area right now trying to get an airtight case before they battle an entity that’ll definitely mean more press coverage than usual. Jordan’s in his office with the door closed, a quick glance at the clock letting Stiles know he’s probably got a client since it’s half past one now. Jordan always takes an early lunch so he’s back in the offices for walk-in clients in the early afternoon. Derek’s office door is open, but Stiles doesn’t even take a peek inside because he knows Derek’s at the courthouse today. One of their clients is accepting a settlement offer for a housing discrimination, so Derek’s there to handle the legal details.

As he walks to his office, Stiles notices that Erica’s desk is empty. Instead of using the actual office space they intended for their accountant and office manager to use, Erica prefers having a desk in the main office so she can greet clients and meet everyone before anyone else has the chance. He finds her sitting at his desk with her laptop open when he steps into his office. “Seriously? You take over _my_ space when I’m gone?”

“You’re late, so blame yourself.” Erica winks at him. “Remember, Stiles, you snooze, you lose. Besides, you’ve got the comfiest chair, and I’m not about to let a potential client catch me watching this, so you should be thanking me for preserving the image of our non-profit.”

“If you’re watching something clients shouldn’t see, maybe that’s an indication that you shouldn’t be watching it?” Stiles rolls his eyes and puts his messenger bag down before walking around to peer over Erica’s shoulder. His eyes widen slightly when he sees a view of one of their clients that he could have gone forever without seeing. “What the hell?”

 

 

“That’s what I said!” Erica grins up at him. “I don’t think that position is even possible, is it? I mean, I’m pretty flexible, but it looks like Theo must be a yoga master.”

“Why are you watching,” Stiles picks up the discarded DVD case by Erica’s laptop and snorts, “Superwerewolf: Boner of Steel? God, who even comes up with these titles? And are werewolves in porn a thing? My tastes generally run vanilla, if so.”

“I’m watching it so I can give you an abridged summary in case Theo wants to know your thoughts, of course.” Erica blinks innocently at him. “And you’re lucky you came in during this one, because at least the costumes are pretty interesting. The one I just skipped through involved a vampires’ nudist beach, and there were some actors in that one who _needed_ clothes.” She shudders and taps her bright red fingernail against the cover of a different movie.

“Theo’s starting to become a little creepy if he’s sending us his porn to watch,” Stiles admits, loosening the knot on his tie before he sits in his second favorite chair. He doesn’t even bother trying to fight Erica for his chair yet, knowing that’s a fight he’d lose.

“Us?” Erica snorts and pats his head like he’s a silly child. “Stiles, babe, love, snookums, Theo sends _you_ the random gifts. Ever since you helped him with the discrimination case against his studio, he’s been wooing you in a decidedly inappropriate way, and you probably need to stop pretending that he isn’t because porn crosses several lines.”

“I made it clear that I wasn’t interested when he asked me out for celebratory drinks on his yacht, Erica. I don’t get sexually involved with clients, especially creepy ones.” Stiles groans and leans forward to bang his head against his desk. Not hard but enough to visually demonstrate his frustration with the whole Theo Raeken wooing thing. He should have taken care of it when the office received sixty-nine pounds of bananas that Theo sent along with a suggestive note to him about ‘practicing his technique’ but he’d foolishly thought it was misguided appreciation. “You can’t tell Derek about these videos.”

“But, Stiles, it’d be so fun to watch Derek beat Theo to a pulp for being so suggestive to you.” Erica pouts at him. “Personally, I still think you should have let Derek file a restraining order when Theo sent you the photos of his new butt tattoo, but you continuously want to see the good in everyone. The guy had someone copy your lips from a photo and tattooed them to his ass, so I think he moved into creeper territory weeks ago. I’m just glad that you let me use those images for a new Tumblr meme because I feel all powerful whenever I happen to go viral. The ‘kiss my ass’ meme is going strong. Anyway, can we finally call your dad in now that there’s actual gifts of porn?”

“No, we aren’t calling my dad. God, Erica. My dad does _not_ need to know about the magic dildo! Or the tattoo or the porn. Theo is a rare exception to the general rule that our clients are awesome and just need help and support.” Stiles groans. “Why couldn’t he be like Mrs. Flannigan and just send us a pretty porcelain doll for Lydia’s collection as a thank you?”

“Because Mrs. Flannigan is eighty years old and doesn’t want to ride your disco stick?” Erica kisses him soundly on the cheek, rubbing her thumb over the lipstick she most likely left behind. “Cheer up, Buttercup. Derek’s going to take care of Theo one way or another as soon as I ‘accidentally’ let it slip that you got supernatural porn parodies in the mail today.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Stiles mutters, scowling at her. “Derek can’t risk getting into a fight with some creepy porn star who would probably try to use it to his advantage. He’s got enough on his plate these days without worrying about my inability to reject a suitor.”

“Reject a suitor?” Erica snickers. “Okay, Jane Austen. You keep telling yourself that Derek thinks anything he’s got on his plate is more important than you. And, while you’re at it, I’ve got some oceanfront property in Arizona I’ll sell to you at a cheap price.”

“Why did I beg you to move to Beacon Hills when we came back? I claim temporary insanity.” Stiles hates the fact that his cheeks are flushing from Erica’s comment because he’s twenty-eight years old. That’s old enough to stop getting splotchy red spots whenever Erica makes pointed comments about her belief that Derek thinks about him as more than just a friend.

“You begged me because you knew you’d be lost without me, of course.” Erica rubs his back in the comforting way that means she’s apologizing for upsetting him with the Derek thing.

It’s become a more delicate topic for him over the last year anyway, with what happened several months before Derek’s thirtieth birthday, and Erica’s the only person who really knows the full extent of his feelings about Derek because she’d been a neutral third party when they first met at Columbia. Now, she’s good friends with Cora and Lydia, is dating one of Derek’s friends from his summer baseball team, and is an honorary part of Stiles’ extended family, but she still has his back no matter what.

“Of course.” Stiles takes her hand, rubbing his thumb over her faded soulmark. He never met Erica’s soulmate, some guy she met in high school who died in a car accident her senior year, but he knows the feelings she has for Boyd are real and strong regardless of the fact they’re not soulmates. It’s just further evidence that supports his claims that the entire perception of soulmates in society is based on marketing and idealism that’s not reality.

“How was your lunch with Agatha Carter?” Erica slides out of his chair and becomes professional in a way he needs right now. She’s good at knowing when his thoughts are getting maudlin or he’s starting to question his life. “Did she sign a contract?”

“It was good. She’s got an interesting case that I think Derek’s going to enjoy researching. She did sign the contract, and she’s feisty, so I think we might even finally have one that won’t just settle to avoid publicity.”

Stiles opened Better Tomorrow with Lydia, Derek, Erica, and Jordan Parrish, a guy he met shortly after moving back to Beacon Hills from New York, with the hope of eventually changing public policy and helping to shape the image of those with similar experiences as his due to soulmark discrimination. They’ve managed to make a few changes, mostly local in northern California but their work is extending down to Los Angeles and up to Seattle now. Plus, he’s a frequent guest at conferences internationally that are starting to address the reality of soulmates and soulmarks.

Considering they’ve only been open for four years, he’s extremely pleased with their progress, but they still seem to run into a problem when it comes to the major discrimination issues that could legally push for changes. Most people don’t want the attention that being a plaintiff in those cases would bring to them because the general public is still incredibly judgmental and can be cruel to anyone not fitting the ideal of perfect soulmates. Which is a majority of the population regardless of what the media claims, so it’s something Stiles is still trying to fight and probably will be his entire life. Change can’t happen overnight, after all.

“Welcome back,” Erica teases when Stiles blinks and looks at her snapping fingers. “You drifted off, probably into thoughts of addressing Congress about soulmate bullshit shaping public policy despite the statistics that are finally starting to get published because of the freedom of the internet. They’ll call it the Stilinski Law, of course.”

“It is a common daydream,” he admits, grinning despite himself. “We’re going to get there one day, you know? Washington state is at the precipice of approving a new law that prohibits discrimination based on soulmarks for any state job, which is a huge deal. Derek’s done work with the organizers up in Seattle and told me they feel really positive that it’s going to pass when put up to voters on the ballot this year. And I’ve got an invitation to go speak to a group in Boston who is trying to get several initiatives on the ballot next year, so it’s moving forward.”

“Is he bragging about influencing that group in Boston again?” Derek leans against Stiles’ doorway, his lips curved into a slight smile that _does things_ to Stiles’ heart. “They heard him speak in Manhattan several years ago, and he inspired them to start a grassroots effort for change, you know?”

“He hadn’t gotten to that part yet, Handsome.” Erica bats her eyelashes at Derek and smirks. “You sound rather proud of him, though.”

“I am,” Derek says simply, pushing himself off the doorframe and entering Stiles’ office. “I left the file on your desk for today’s case, Erica. It can get billed and filed. Make sure the apartment complex is charged appropriately because they agreed to cover all costs as part of the settlement.”

“Of course.” Erica sashays over to Derek and gives him a hug. “Good job, Derek. I saw the contract they agreed to, and it’s a lot more than I honestly expected you’d get out of them.”

“He’s awesome. He flashes that charming smile and makes them underestimate him before he goes in for the kill.” Stiles grins as he carefully turns off Erica’s laptop and slides the film cases Theo sent him into his top drawer before Derek can see them. “Did you get a chance to eat after court? Or do you want me to order you something?”

“I’m good. I grabbed a sandwich on the way back to the office.” Derek flops into Stiles’ guest chair and unfastens his tie, flicking open the top two buttons of his dress shirt. “How was the meeting with Carter?”

“Great. She signed, and she’s probably going to go all the way because her grandson really pissed her off.” Stiles opens his messenger bag and pulls out his notepad, tossing it to Derek so he can read over the notes he took during the meeting. “If you can find the right precedents, it could be a really good case for us.”

“I wish I could bottle up the pheromones in the air to sell because I’d be a rich woman in no time.” Erica looks between Stiles and Derek with a smug smile on her lips.

“What?” Derek arches a brow, and Stiles can actually translate it into human speak. The eyebrow is definitely questioning Erica’s sanity and is also confused, thank God because Derek doesn’t need to understand what Erica’s talking about.

“Oh, nothing.” Erica shrugs. “I was just thinking that I really need a perfume that smells like sex because then I’d be able to distract Boyd from the basketball playoffs this year without having to buy sexy lingerie or feign interest in men running back and forth across a limited space bouncing a ball.”

“It’s only May. I think you’ve got time to figure out suitable distractions?” Derek gives Stiles a look that clearly says ‘she’s _your_ friend’. “You have to make it through baseball season first.”

“Then football. Why did I have to fall for a stereotypical guy who likes sports?” Erica pouts. “Don’t get me wrong. I like balls, but not those kind of balls.”

“Don’t go there.” Stiles groans and gives Erica a ‘please leave’ look. “We don’t want to know.”

“Why, Stiles, wherever did your mind go?” Erica bats her eyelashes and smirks. “I merely meant beach balls…but also _beach balls_.”

“That makes no sense?” Derek frowns in thought, like he’s actually trying to figure out Erica’s innuendo, before he finally holds up his hand and says, “Don’t explain it, though. I’m better off not knowing.”

“Neither of you are any fun.” Erica harrumphs before making her way out of the office, all swinging hips and tight leather skirt.

“Whatta woman,” Stiles mutters, running his hand through his hair as he sends out a little bit of sympathy towards Boyd, wherever he is right now. Erica’s definitely a handful, and Boyd deserves all the support.

“So, are you going to tell me what you tried to sneak into your drawer or do I have to pretend I didn’t notice the obvious attempt to hide something from me and look myself when you leave the office?” Derek gives him a ‘you can’t fool me, kid, so why do you even try’ smirk that makes Stiles’ heart race in all the best ways.

“Oh, c’mon, Thumper. What if it was something really personal? It might be your next birthday present or like, uh, new additions to my collection of condoms!” He cringes because that’s seriously not his best effort. Derek obviously agrees because the judgmental eyebrows are back.

“Your collection of condoms is in the top drawer of your dresser, under your underwear, and you only buy one brand anyway because the others you’ve tried don’t fit or aren’t lubricated enough,” Derek reminds him, speaking matter-of-factly, as if everyone knows the condom buying habits of their best friends, “and my birthday isn’t until December, so try again.”

“Fine, Sherlock Holmes. It’s porn.” Stiles shrugs when Derek stares at him and blinks, the tips of his ears turning a deep red as he suddenly finds the wall beside Stiles’ desk very interesting. “Oh, c’mon, Derek. It’s not _my_ porn. That’s all safely hidden away on my laptop under a password, thank you very much. This is another ridiculous gift from Raeken.” He opens his drawer and slides the movies across the desk. “You can burn them if you want, though Erica was watching the Boner of Steel so it’s still in her laptop.”

Derek looks at the videos and makes a face. “Can I file the restraining order _now_? I think this is sufficient evidence that he’s not handling your rejection well, and he needs to understand that you’re not interested in him or anything he tries to offer you.”

“He lives in Santa Monica, which is like nine hours away. He isn’t stalking me or anything. He’s just not used to people like me turning him down,” Stiles says, rubbing at the scar on his wrist unconsciously. “He’ll get bored soon, and we won’t hear from him anymore.”

“People like you?” Derek looks at him with that intense stare that Stiles sort of thinks he’s supposed to understand but doesn’t. Derek holds his wrist up, the scarred flesh still looking tender and fresh even though it happened almost eight months ago. Not that Stiles is keeping track of how long it’s been since Derek’s soulmate died before they ever met because that would make him creepier than Theo. Derek looks at his wrist with an unreadable expression. “People like us, you mean.”

“It’s not quite the same, is it?” Stiles doesn’t ever talk about Derek’s lost soulmate. The first few weeks after it happened, Derek had become withdrawn and avoided everyone, even him. Hell, _especially_ him, it seemed. The house they share had been quiet, no shared meals for days, Derek just staying in his room or office being antisocial. Then Derek had just sort of gone back to normal, like he hadn’t lost the opportunity to meet his perfect other half before he even turned thirty.

Talia and Joseph Hale are soulmates, a successful match that’s still happy together and raised a family of seven children, the youngest son being a surprise baby that happened during Cora’s freshman year of college. Stiles knows Derek has always wanted to meet his soulmate, even if they avoided the subject like it was taboo their entire lives. Stiles had never wanted to hear it straight from Derek’s mouth, and Derek had always been so sensitive about soulmarks because of Stiles’ scar that they just never said anything about it, but Stiles knows everyone wants that soulmate ideal. It’s the whole reason discrimination even happens, after all.

“Isn’t it?” Derek reaches across the desk and lightly drags his thumb over the scarred flesh on Stiles’ left wrist. “Feels the same.”

Until now, Stiles has never really understood the concept of ‘my heart is in my throat’, but he totally gets it now that someone—that _Derek_ —has touched his soulmark. Over two decades of friendship and nearly half that long as roommates, yet this is the first time Derek’s ever touched his soulmark. There’s a tension in the air as Stiles stares into Derek’s pretty eyes, and he nervously licks his lips because he’s finding it difficult to form words at the moment. Before he has a chance to try speaking, however, there’s a knock on his open door. Derek sits back quickly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they’d slipped as he leaned over, and Stiles is actually shaking when he picks up a pen to keep his hands busy.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt?” Jordan looks a little anxious, as if he, too, can somehow feel the tension that’s just recently been in the air.

“No, of course not.” Stiles waves his pen in the air and smiles at Jordan. “Everything okay?”

“We have a walk-in who insists on speaking only to you,” Jordan explains, making a face which indicates the client probably isn’t very polite. It happens sometimes, one of their walk-ins will be referred to one of them specifically, but Jordan usually has the ability to get the potential client to talk to him if the others are busy. “I told him you’ve got appointments all afternoon, but he said he’d wait. Since your next one isn’t until two thirty, I thought I’d see if you wanted to meet with him now or just make him wait.”

“Is he a referral?” Stiles sits back in his chair and flips through the calendar on his phone. He’s got about an hour until his meeting with Derek and Samuel Kensington, so there’s definitely enough time for an initial interview, but he’d been looking forward to a small break between meetings.

“Yes. Said Danny sent him.” Jordan shrugs when Stiles arches a brow. “I didn’t know about it. Danny usually sends us an email with some basic data if he refers someone to us, but there’s nothing on this guy in our in-box. Want me to give him a call?”

Danny does all their web design and cyber security for free, donating his time to the non-profit and referring people to them occasionally. It had taken Stiles time before he could trust Danny, too many memories of school with humiliation and bullying happening while Danny just stood there and let it without trying to intervene, but they’re actually sort of friends now. Danny’s soulmate, Ethan, runs Stiles’ favorite café with his twin brother, Aiden, who actually became a client of Better Tomorrow several years ago. If Danny refers someone, Stiles tries to make sure that they take the client.

“No, don’t bother. It’s fine. You can bring him in,” Stiles says, rolling his chair over to the small fridge he keeps hidden by his file cabinet and grabbing a bottle of water. “Want one, Der?”

“No thanks. I should probably get back to my office since you’re meeting with someone.” Derek stands up and gives Stiles an unreadable look before he turns to walk out of the office. He stops mid-step when Jordan brings in the new potential client. “What’s _he_ doing here?”

“This is the referral that Danny sent,” Jordan explains in a quiet voice before he escorts the guy past Derek.

It takes Stiles a moment for his brain to catch up with everything because he’s not used to Derek being outright rude around a new client referral. He quickly realizes why when he focuses on the man standing beside Jordan. It’s been a decade, but the years have been far too kind to Jackson. He still looks like a pretty boy model who’s stepped out of the pages of GQ. Seeing him again has Stiles feeling nauseous, years of bullying and insults spilling out of the corner of his mind where he usually keeps them locked away. Vivid memories flash quickly through his brain as he stares at Jackson, the taunts and sneers reopening long forgotten wounds.

“I should have known you’d still be wherever Stilinski is, Hale,” Jackson says, his tone lacking the snide condescension of their school days. “Always have been his shadow. Guess some things never change.”

“Maybe you should go back under whatever rock you climbed out from then,” Derek suggests helpfully, taking a step closer to Jackson. “Since I doubt you’ve changed, either.”

“Whittemore, what are you doing here?” Stiles interrupts them before they can actually come to blows in his office. He likes his carpet and doesn’t want blood stains on it, even if they’d be Jackson’s. Of that, he has no doubt because he’s seen Derek box before, and the nice suit he’s wearing doesn’t really conceal the broad shoulders and amazing biceps.

Jackson looks at him and grinds his teeth, the action evident from watching his jaw tense and flex. Jordan stands slightly between Derek and Jackson, ready to intervene if needed. Thank goodness for his combat training because it might very well come in handy today. Finally, Jackson looks at him, and Stiles sees the dark circles under his bright blue eyes and the way his skin is a little too taut over his cheekbones, like he’s not eating properly. All the bad memories of childhood are still there, taunting him, but he’s mature enough now, regardless of what Lydia thinks, to be able to realize that high school was a long time ago.

“I need help,” Jackson mutters, his words not louder than a whisper, and the tilt of his chin just stubborn enough to let Stiles know that he’s not expecting them to help him at all. Still, he took the chance of facing them after the way he treated Stiles all those years, so Stiles realizes it must be a serious problem. Danny referred him, too, which he knows wouldn’t have happened if Jackson was just here to play games.

“Sorry, we’re all full,” Derek says firmly, glaring at Jackson as if he’s the one who spent fourteen years being insulted and picked on due to his soulmark. Stiles appreciates that Derek’s willing to support him, but he’s not yet sure if this is a battle that needs fought.

“Actually, I have time.” Stiles is suddenly the recipient of Derek’s full glare, his eyebrows indicating what he thinks of Stiles’ intellect at the moment and his face telling him exactly what he thinks about the fact that Jackson’s still there. Stiles tries to tell him to chill out and let Jackson talk because maybe it’s serious, but his eyebrows aren’t as communicative as Derek’s, so he doesn’t know if it works.

Jackson huffs out a weak laugh. “I don’t know why you’d give me any of it,” he admits, eyeing Derek skeptically before looking at Stiles. “Can you call off your guard dog?”

“Derek, it’s okay. Let him talk. If he’s trying to pull something, I’ll let you kick his ass,” Stiles says, hoping Derek won’t punch Jackson for the guard dog comment.

“I wouldn’t be here if I had any other options, you know?” Jackson grimaces. “Having to face the kid I spent my childhood tormenting isn’t really high on my list of fun ways to spend a Thursday afternoon.”

“Facing my worst bully isn’t on my list, either,” Stiles points out, relieved when Derek takes a step back and nods at Jordan, who takes that as permission to escape the different sort of tension filling the room. He remembers to shut the door behind him, at least, so Erica won’t be able to sit there listening to everything. Not that Stiles won’t fill her in later anyway.

“I’d tell you that I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t believe me.” Jackson shrugs before cautiously walking towards Stiles’ desk, still keeping Derek in his line of sight like he’s not sure if Derek’s going to suddenly attack or not. Stiles isn’t really sure, either.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Stiles agrees honestly. “It’s easy to say words, especially when you’re hoping to obtain something, but it isn’t as simple to fake actions because it requires more focus to accomplish that.”

“Actions speak louder than words.” Jackson rolls his eyes as he sits down. “You always did have to find the longest way to say something easy. Guess that hasn’t changed.”

“You always were an arrogant dick. Guess that hasn’t changed,” Derek mutters, taking the chair beside Stiles that he’d vacated after Erica left his office.

“I think we can say that it’s best if the past remains there for now, agreed?” Stiles doesn’t give them a chance to argue. “Why did Danny refer you here, Whittemore?” As he asks the question, he looks at Jackson’s right wrist. The soulmark there is completely faded, visual proof of a rejected bond after he met his soulmate. Well, that probably explains his need for a meeting with Stiles.

“Wrongful termination and blacklisting in my field.” Jackson holds up his arm, showing them his wrist. “I’d worked my way up to next in line for partner at my financial consulting firm when I happened to meet my soulmate. She’s the daughter of the company’s majority stockholder, and he and my father felt that it was a match made in business heaven. Lucy and I didn’t agree. We get along well, we’ve become good friends, but I’m gay, so a match between us would never work.”

“You rejected the bond, and her father fired you?” Stiles frowns as he reaches for his notepad and turns the page to a fresh one. “Research indicates that the soulmark doesn’t represent romantic love in nearly fifty percent of the case studies over the last decade, but society refuses to acknowledge that platonic love exists. What happened after you and Lucy decided to terminate the bond?”

“Like you said. I wasn’t willing to live a lie, and she deserved a chance to find someone to love her, regardless of it not being some pre-destined soulmate, so I ended the bond with her blessing. Her father refused to see it as anything other than public humiliation and a personal attack against himself, so I was fired without any cause.” Jackson rubs a hand down his face. “Lucy tried to reason with him, but her father refused to listen. Of course,my father disowned me for bringing such an embarrassment to the Whittemore family name, but I came into my inheritance when I turned eighteen, so I actually don’t care that much about his opinion of my life. What I do care about is the fact that I’ve found out from a couple of friends in the business that Lucy’s dad has had me blacklisted, so I’m not able to find another job in my field.”

“That’s illegal,” Derek says, speaking without hatred for the first time since seeing Jackson enter the office. “There are several rulings already in place that are supposed to provide some level of security for employment in regards to soulmark discrimination. Some of them were created due to people being pressured to perform sexually regardless of soulmark status, but there are one or two that could work for this particular case. I’ll have to do more research, though, since we don’t often get clients with professional discrimination cases.”

“If I make a fuss, I figure he’ll want to settle to keep publicity off the company,” Jackson tells them, looking back at Stiles. “It’s an international financial company with a solid reputation, which is why the promotion was so important. The thing is, I don’t want to settle. Not now. The last couple of months have forced me to see things that I’d never paid any attention to before, and I don’t want to just get paid off when other people out there might be like me.”

“Discrimination isn’t so easy to support when you’re the target of it, is it?” Stiles is glad to see the flash of guilt on Jackson’s face because it means he _has_ changed, at least a little. “If you don’t want to settle, there’s likely going to be publicity. People will say a lot of horrible things about you, especially with the rejected bond, and you’ll probably want to consult with Lucy before agreeing to pursue this because she won’t be able to escape the press, either.”

“She’s completely behind me and ready to do it. Her mother sides with us, but my parents are horrified by my behavior, so I’m no longer their son.” Jackson rubs his hands against his knees. “But, yeah, we talked about it after Danny suggested I come here for help, and Lucy’s the one who urged me to do it. She’s ready for a battle.” He snorts. “Apparently, she read some article you published in a journal about soulmark rights and thinks you’re awesome. She wants to meet you, but I refused to let her come today in case you kicked me out.”

“Yeah, well, she’s obviously got great taste. I _am_ awesome, after all,” Stiles says, glad to hear Derek’s huff of laughter. “I’ll talk the case over with my partners to determine the best course of action, and we’ll have Erica get in touch with contract details. I need you to write out a timeline of events and get us a list of potential witnesses that can corroborate your version of events. If this guy has any valid proof to support you being terminated or your job performance isn’t what you’ve claimed, we need to know before we pursue action.”

“It would also be helpful if you can find anyone else that might also be a victim of soulmark discrimination by the company, regardless of circumstance. Your case is more personal, obviously, but it would indicate that perhaps it’s not the first time it’s happened,” Derek adds, back to being professionally competent in a way that makes Stiles more than a little turned on.

“Got it. I’ll get my shit together and wait to hear from you.” Jackson stands up and reaches across the desk towards Stiles. After a moment of hesitation, Stiles shakes his hand. “Even if words don’t mean anything, I _am_ sorry for all that I put you through during school.”

“Yeah, well, it shaped me into the person I am today, so I can’t really complain.” Stiles lets go of Jackson’s hand and watches Derek walk him out. Once they’re out of his office, he rubs his hands down his face. He takes a moment to collect himself before he starts checking his email.

Erica lets out a wolf whistle a few minutes later that pulls his attention away from the message he’s reading. He looks towards his open door and sees Derek on the way back to his office, his suit coat gone now and his tie hanging loose on either side of his shirt. Erica obviously enjoys the view as he walks by because she says, “Damn, Derek, are those fake butt cheeks? Or is your ass really that firm and high? Bubble butt like that makes me want to bite.”

“No biting allowed,” Derek warns, his tone amused even as he ducks his head and smiles shyly. God, Stiles loves this man so much that it hurts. “You’d better hope there isn’t a client in Jordan’s office that will overhear and think you’re serious.”

“I’d never continue our worst pick-up lines we’ve ever been told game if I knew a client was around, dork,” Erica points out. “Anyway, I think that one takes over top spot for worst, don’t you? I was saving it since I knew it’d be a winner.”

“I think it’s so bad that you had to have made it up,” Derek says, shaking his head. “At least, I really hope no man actually attempted to pick you up by comparing your derriere to fake butt cheeks.”

“Derriere? You know, between you and Stiles today, I feel like I need to start looking for Mr. Darcy somewhere,” Erica says, shaking her head. “And, yes, some drunk fool actually attempted to use that line to get me to go home with him from a bar. Obviously, I taught him the error of his ways.” He can hear Erica muttering about the drunk jerk when Derek walks back into Stiles’ office.

“You doing okay?” Derek looks at him steadily, and Stiles knows it’s pointless to lie.

“Not particularly. Lots of reopened wounds just seeing him again, you know?” Stiles rubs the back of his neck and makes a face. “It’s a good case, though, right?”

“Yeah, it is, but nothing’s more important than you,” Derek says, his tone quiet and sincere. “I’d prefer if you assigned him to me because it’s mostly legal anyway, and I’m the best fit to manage his case.”

“I can handle it, Derek.” Stiles gives him a stubborn look, not caring that his original plan had been going to be letting Derek work with Jackson.

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to, Stiles.” Derek picks up Stiles legal pad and rips off the sheet with the notes he made about Jackson. “I’ll take him, but you can help. Alright?”

“Whatever.” Stiles is sulking and doesn’t really care. He’s not fond of having his focus questioned, and that’s what it feels like Derek’s done. It’s stupid, of course, because he _knows_ Derek’s just trying to save him from the hassle of dealing with Jackson and the bad memories he’d rather forget. He looks at Derek and sighs. “Alright. It’s a deal. You can put up with the pretty boy arrogance better than I can, anyway.”

“Yes, I can,” Derek agrees. Fortunate for him, he doesn’t smirk in triumph because, had he done so, Stiles might have thrown the stapler at him. Instead, he just stares at Stiles in that unreadable way he does lately. “Do you want to stop for dinner on the way home? Kira was telling me about this new Japanese-Indian fusion place that sounds pretty good.”

“Sure, spicy sounds good.” Stiles takes a drink of his water and waves his hand at the door. “Now get to work. I’ve got some notes to type up before my next appointment.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Derek teases, smiling slightly before he walks out of the office. If Stiles stares at his ass, well, it’s merely to see if Erica’s earlier harassment had been justified.

It totally had been.


	5. Chapter 5

_In a way I know my heart is waking up_

_As all the walls come tumbling down_

_I'm closer than I've ever felt before_

_And I know_

_And you know_

_There's no need for words right now_

_'Cause I can feel you breathe_

_It's washing over me_

_Suddenly I'm melting into you_

_There's nothing left to prove_

_Baby all we need is just to be_

_Caught up in the touch_

_The slow and steady rush_

_Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be_

_I can feel you breathe_

_Just breathe_

**_Breathe by Faith Hill_ **

 

The house is quiet when Stiles gets home from the airport. It’s only three in the afternoon, so Derek’s probably still at the office. He wasn’t supposed to fly in until tonight, but he managed to wrap up his part of the conference early so he could come home. It feels like he’s been away more than he hasn’t the last couple of months, and he’s relieved that there aren’t any plans in his upcoming schedule that require hotel stays and eating out. Of course, he’s not going to risk jinxing himself by actually verbalizing his relief to be unpacking his suitcase without plans to repack within a week.

After dropping off his suitcase in his room, he goes to the bathroom so he can piss and take a shower. His flight from London was long with a three hour layover at JFK, so he knows he probably smells like stale air and stinky airports. The shower makes him feel better, clears his head some, and he’s soon walking back downstairs barefoot, wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and an old t-shirt because it’s been two weeks since he’s been home so comfort is the only thing he wants right now.

There’s nothing much on television this time of day, so he ends up turning on some fake judge show with entertaining guests before grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. There are six different bags of leftover takeout, which lets him know just how poorly Derek’s been eating while Stiles has been gone. He opens a bag from their favorite Chinese place and is pleasantly surprised to see leftover egg rolls and fried rice with beef. Derek’s not a huge fan of egg rolls, but maybe he’d had a craving.

A quick search of the other bags leaves Stiles slightly confused, though, because Derek doesn’t like alfredo sauce, but there’s a full order of fettuccini alfredo that hasn’t even been opened, and there’s a Philly cheesesteak with extra mushrooms from the sandwich place. Derek doesn’t like mushrooms; he thinks they taste like dirt. The carton of mango chutney and container of chicken vindaloo is Stiles’ favorite order because he likes his food extra spicy. Derek _never_ orders vindaloo. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d swear that Derek had ordered him food despite the fact he’s been in Boston then London for the last two weeks.

Not one to let leftovers go to waste, he piles a mixture of everything onto a plate and puts it in the microwave. He checks Derek’s calendar while he’s waiting, relieved to see that he’s not got any trips away planned in the immediate future, either. The last couple of months, it seems like one of them has been traveling for a couple of days here and there almost all the time. Since they accepted Jackson’s case, Derek’s had to go to four different cities to meet with other people who were victims of Reginald Davenport’s soulmark bias.

Stiles had been working with the group in Boston, flying out there twice, and then he’d had to meet with a senator in DC who had recently had a change in heart regarding her stance on soulmark restrictions; a change that just happened to coincide with her son’s soulmark scarring over. Regardless of her reasons, it’s still a huge step forward to have someone with that kind of power on their side now, and she’s going to be a solid ally. Summer is always pretty busy for him, but Derek’s usually been able to accompany him to the international conferences where he’s got speaking engagements. This summer, however, with Jackson’s case plus Agatha’s being more complex and serious than some, Derek’s been too busy to go with him.

It’s not nearly as enjoyable to speak at those things without Derek there.

The food is good, and Stiles eats way too much of it. The mixtures in spices and cuisines leaves his tongue on fire, so he ends up getting two scoops of ice cream for dessert. The carton of chocolate peanut butter is half gone, which means there’s definitely going to be teasing in Derek’s future because Stiles never forgets how Derek mutters about his fondness for that combination of flavors. He’s halfway done with his ice cream when he hears Derek entering the house.

“My flight got in early. Surprise!” Stiles looks away from the trainwreck on the TV that is a loud mouthed guy arguing with a stern female judge to smile at Derek, who does look really surprised to see him. “Did you miss me?”

“Like a toothache,” Derek says flatly, even as he drops his briefcase and walks to the sofa. Stiles almost drops the bowl of ice cream when Derek hugs him, practically clinging to him, and Stiles rubs his face against Derek’s neck because he can’t resist. This is actually the longest they’ve been separated since Stiles was eighteen and moved to New York City. Ten years, and they haven’t spent two weeks apart. Hell, they haven’t spent more than three days apart. Cora’s right: they really _are_ codependent messes.

“That much, huh?” Stiles breathes in the scent of Derek’s cologne, tightening his grip because he’s not ready to let go yet. “Only fair since I missed you like toe fungus.”

“The smelly kind or the itchy kind?” Derek is actually nuzzling his neck now, and Stiles feels like his heart can’t take it. He and Scott hug a lot, but it’s never been the kind of hugs that he and Derek share. It’s something he’s never tried thinking about, not when there’s been a soulmark on Derek’s wrist, but the mark’s been gone nearly a year now. Maybe it’s almost a time when Stiles can actually start thinking about it?

“Oh, definitely the smelly _and_ itchy kind. The kind that turns your toenails yellow.” Stiles feels puffs of warm air against his neck as Derek huffs out a laugh, his lips curving into a pleased smile because he always likes it when he makes Derek laugh.

“Yeah, well, I missed you like a toothache that becomes a root canal and leads to the extraction of three other teeth, so I might have you beat this time.” Derek squeezes him hard once more before he loosens his grip and pulls back. “How was the conference?”

“You look like shit, Der,” Stiles says, getting a really good look at him. “Have you even been sleeping? Why didn’t Lydia or Erica tell me you’ve been working too hard? I’d have flown home between Boston and London just to kick your ass.”

“Thanks, Tig. Glad to know I’ve still got my good looks,” Derek says dryly. “And you should talk. There are dark circles under your eyes that aren’t caused by make-up running.”

“The one time I actually let Cora talk me into wearing eye liner it rains and you don’t ever let me forget. That was like twelve years ago, Thumper.” Stiles tugs on Derek’s ear and sticks his tongue out. “And you know I sleep poorly in hotel rooms. There’s always too much noise or not enough, and the bed is never right, and the pillows suck.”

“Yeah, well, you know I don’t sleep that well when you’re not down the hall, so can we just drop the whole sleepless tired zombie look we’re both sporting?” Derek sits down on the sofa and kicks his shoes off before putting his feet on the coffee table. “I’ll ask again, so maybe I’ll get an answer this time. How was the conference?”

“Good.” Stiles sits down beside him and leans forward to put his ice cream bowl on the table. “Crowded, which is a positive thing. There were several academics there from well-known universities, and Madeleine and Jasper think the world is finally starting to listen to what we’ve been saying for years. Colin sends his best, by the way, and Steph told me several threats she intends to carry out if you don’t go with me next year.”

“I’m sorry I missed it. I was going to try, but the judge set Agatha’s hearing right in the middle of it, so I couldn’t get out of it.” Derek is stroking Stiles’ scalp in that way he’s done since they were kids. It’s always made Stiles feel comforted and safe, like he’s protected, and he can’t help looking at Derek to see if he’s aware at all of what he does to Stiles. Derek’s eyes are shut, and he’s relaxed in a way that lets Stiles know exactly how much he really was missed.

“There’s always next year. How did the hearing go? I read the email, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

“It went well. The judge feels there’s actually enough evidence to go to trial, and Agatha refused to settle when her grandson’s lawyer reached out. I think we’re going to win, which means we’ll set a precedent for property ownership and civil unions that hasn’t been passed in this state before.” Derek opens his eyes then, blinking when he catches Stiles staring. “Jackson’s case is shaping up well, too. I expect we’ll be ready to go to court in another couple of weeks, see if we can get a trial date set.”

“That’s good news.” Stiles keeps looking at Derek, knowing he’ll eventually look away because he always does, but needing to get his eye full after so many days away. “How’s Jackson? Still a douchebag?”

“He’s not going to win any personality contests, that’s for sure, but I think everything he’s gone through really has affected him.” Derek shrugs. “Time will tell, of course. He seems to seriously regret being an asshole to you in the past, but that doesn’t change the damage he did.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Stiles agrees, finally looking away because it gets overwhelming sometimes. “But it did actually lead me down the path I’ve taken so I might eventually forgive him if he shows me he’s changed.” He reaches over and touches the back of Derek’s left hand, lightly dragging his fingers over his knuckles, feeling the whorls of hair against his fingertips. “I really did miss you, Der.”

“Me too, Stiles,” Derek whispers, turning his hand so Stiles is tracing his palm now. The mark on his wrist is _right there_ , a reminder to Stiles that he’s never going to be able to call Derek his, that he’s never going to have what he wants most in the world. Only the mark is no longer dark swirls of black waiting for color to fill in the bare skin. It’s a scar now, flesh twisted enough that the mark isn’t even visible anymore, but it’s not as ugly as Stiles’ own scar.

“Wha—“ He looks up into Derek’s eyes when Derek puts his other hand over Stiles’ hand and guides his fingers lower. The feel of the scarred flesh under Stiles’ fingertips is surprising, softer than he’d expect but also firm, warm. He can feel Derek’s pulse in his wrist, the steady thrum of it slightly accelerated as they stare at each other. “Derek…”

“Stiles,” Derek breathes out his name softly, like it’s a prayer or a benediction or something far more serious than just a name. And, in that moment, it _feels_ serious. Stiles is going to look away, is going to pretend he isn’t seeing what he thinks he is because that’s what he always does, he always protects Derek from this because Derek can’t really want these things, not with Stiles. He always looks away because he has to, because it scares him, because he knows it’s best if he does. Only this time he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps staring into those beautiful eyes that defy description, and Derek inhales sharply, a sharp hiss of breath as he returns Stiles’ stare.

As corny as it sounds, time really does stop for a moment. Stiles isn’t sure which of them moves first, maybe they both do, but they’re soon leaning into each other. Derek’s hand is cupping Stiles’ face, and Stiles is twisting around to move closer, and there’s a roaring in his ears that’s maybe his heartbeat or maybe just white noise. And then Derek’s lips are gently brushing against his. Stiles shudders at the first feel of them, dry and rough, bitten from too many hours spent working on cases, dry because Derek never remembers to use lip balm during summer when the heat dries his lips out unless Stiles is there to remind him.

Then Derek presses more firmly, and Stiles stops thinking about anything except the fact that he’s kissing Derek. Derek’s kissing him. He’s wanted this for so long, since before he even knew he wanted it, and finally having it is unbelievable. Stiles feels Derek tense slightly and start to pull away, realizes he’s just been sitting there too stunned to react, and he can’t have Derek think he doesn’t want this. He returns the kiss, moving into Derek and bringing his hand up to stroke the beard covering Derek’s jaw. Derek makes a noise, a low whine that Stiles can’t help but imitate as they keep kissing.

They kiss for a while, closed-mouthed and almost chaste, just touching each other’s faces and letting their lips move. The first feel of Derek’s tongue against his lips has Stiles parting them for him, and the kiss deepens, becoming less chaste as they taste each other for the first time. Derek’s fingers are in his hair now, and Stiles is licking at his tongue, his body starting to react to the passion and love that he can no longer deny he feels for Derek. The feel of Derek’s thumb brushing over his left wrist is electrifying, almost like how Stiles has heard soulmates talk about their soulmarks bonding.

Soulmates.

Oh God. What is he _doing_? This isn’t right. He’s taking advantage of Derek. He’s got to stop this before it goes any further. Reluctantly, Stiles pulls back from the kiss, moaning when Derek just starts kissing his jaw and nuzzling his neck. The scrape of soft beard against his sensitive skin is more pleasant than he’s even imagined, and he bites his lip when he feels Derek’s tongue on his bare skin. Why did he want to stop this?

Right. He remembers now.

“Derek, we shouldn’t,” he manages to say in between gasps as Derek seems to focus on sucking a mark on his neck.

“What?” Derek’s voice is husky, aroused in a way Stiles has never heard before, and he’s blinking down at Stiles when he raises his head. Lips swollen from kissing, hair a mess, eyes slightly dazed. So gorgeous it hurts, and Stiles can’t have him. Not like this. Not yet.

“It hasn’t even been a year,” Stiles whispers, wishing the research was different but he’s made a career out of studying soulmarks and soulmates. He knows even the worst researchers still claim it takes at least a year to emotionally move past losing a soulmate who’s never been met. Derek’s mark didn’t scar until October, so it hasn’t been a year yet. For Derek’s sake, Stiles can’t let them do this.

“A year?” Derek looks adorably confused, but Stiles is resolved. Derek’s taken care of him for most of his life, and he can do the same tonight.

“Your soulmate, Der. It hasn’t been a year yet. You know what they say,” Stiles reminds him gently, watching the realization spread over Derek’s face. It hurts to know he still can’t have this, especially after getting a taste and feeling like his world finally made sense in every way possible, but maybe there’s a chance he can one day.

“My soulmate.” Derek looks at him, thumb stroking Stiles’ jaw. “It’s not what you think, Stiles.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles turns his head and kisses Derek’s palm before he squeezes Derek’s hand. “I have feelings for you, Derek. Like capital F feelings, you know? And I want this, to kiss you and to be with you, but I can wait until the respectable mourning period is over. I know you must be hurting over what you lost, what you’ll never have, and I’m not going to pressure you into anything.”

Derek flinches slightly, like Stiles’ words are sharp and rude instead of loving and supportive. It doesn’t make any sense, and Stiles starts to feel old insecurities nibbling at him as he lets go of Derek’s hand. He knows Derek too well to ever believe he’d be the type to use Stiles for sex, but he still can’t help but compare himself to Derek’s lost soulmate, the perfect person for him, the one who was meant to be that Derek will never have now. Stiles is always going to be second best, but he’s okay with that because he knows Derek would never do anything to hurt him.

“Stop it. Whatever you’re thinking, just stop.” Derek takes his hand and squeezes it, looking slightly desperate as Stiles stares at him. “I didn’t mean…” He shakes his head and looks uncertain, almost guilty, like he had when his mark first scarred over. “I need to show you something, Stiles. Please. Let me show you.”

“Okay.” Stiles is surprised when Derek stands up, but he gets to his feet and follows. Derek doesn’t let go of his hand, not even when they walk upstairs, and he keeps looking over his shoulder like he needs to reassure himself Stiles is still there. It’s unlike Derek to be so anxious, and it worries Stiles a little because he doesn’t understand why.

“I never told anyone, not even my parents,” Derek says as they enter his bedroom. He finally lets go of Stiles’ hand after he has him sit on the end of his bed. Stiles doesn’t say anything, knowing somehow that Derek needs him to be quiet right now and just listen. He watches Derek open the bottom drawer of his dresser and remove a large envelope from it. When Derek offers him the envelope, he takes it. “Open it.”

Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes before finally looking down at the envelope. It’s not sealed, so he opens it and pulls out a stack of different glossy brochures and at least an inch of paper. “What is all this?” he asks, trying to organize it without dropping it. When he reads the title of one of the pamphlets, he can’t really believe what he’s seeing. “’How to Break a Soulbond’, ‘Official Process for Nullifying a Soulbond’…Derek, it’s all stuff about breaking soulbonds.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Derek sits on the bed beside him and takes off his glasses, tossing them on the bedside table. “I told you it wasn’t what you think. Before my soulmate died, I was, uh, looking into ways to break the bond.”

“What?” Stiles looks at him, unable to hide his surprise. It isn’t unheard of for someone to break a soulbond, but it’s not common at all. There are a lot of strict regulations around it, in fact, to try to prevent people from pursuing the idea. “Why would you have wanted to do that?”

“I couldn’t do it before I turned thirty because of the laws,” Derek says, dragging his hand over his face before he looks at Stiles. “Or else I’d have done it years ago. I’ve told you before that I think soulmarks are a curse in a lot of ways. I didn’t care about meeting someone that destiny was convinced was my soulmate. I mean, look at Scott’s mom. Her soulmate was an abusive alcoholic, and even Jackson and his soulmate, they’re good friends but not meant to be anything more than that.”

“But Derek. Not caring if you find your soulmate isn’t the same as going through all the trouble of stopping a bond before it ever happens. You know that doesn’t happen a lot. It’s taking the choice away from your soulmate when you do it, and it makes for complicated consent issues,” Stiles reminds him. He still doesn’t understand, not when he’s been convinced for his entire life that Derek deserved to find his other half and be happy the way the propaganda claims he should be. “You deserve to find someone who makes you feel complete, Der. The person who’s the other half of your soul, who can make you happy in all the cliché ways that I hate yet envy.”

“Stiles, I didn’t need a soulmark to find someone like that,” Derek whispers, reaching up to touch his face. “That’s why I wanted to break the bond. I’d already found the person I knew in my heart, in my mind, in my _soul_ that I was meant to be with. I’d found him when I was just a kid, never realizing how he’d change my life, never knowing how important he’d become to me, but I knew I wasn’t going to lose him because of some stupid soulmark.”

“Derek…” Stiles trails off, feeling strangely breathless as Derek stares into his eyes with that intensity that’s been there for so many years. His skin feels like it’s on fire, goosebumps forming along his arms, his heart racing so fast that he’s surprised he’s not hyperventilating, and he can’t speak, can’t find the words to ask what he wants to know. What he _needs_ to know.

But he doesn’t have to ask because Derek knows him so well. Derek knows what he needs without any words being spoken. His lips curve into a slight smile as he moves his thumb over Stiles’ jaw and quietly says, “It’s you, Stiles. It’s _always_ been you.”

It’s quiet for a moment because Stiles is too surprised to speak. He just stares at Derek and listens to him breathe.

“You, uh, you might need to pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming,” Stiles finally stammers, eyes stinging slightly because, damn, how could he not tear up over that when he’s spent so much of his life remembering Jackson’s snide warning that no one would ever love him and he’d always be alone. Then cringing because _seriously_? That’s how he responds to Derek’s ridiculously romantic confession of feelings? “Sorry. I’m really bad at being romantic, obviously. Ow! What the fuck?”

“You said I should pinch you,” Derek reminds him, leaning in to rub their noses together. “You’re not dreaming, and I don’t care if you suck at being romantic. I’m romantic enough for the both of us. Don’t cry, Tig. I hate it when you cry, even happy tears. Or I hope they’re happy tears, at least.”

“Yeah, you are romantic,” Stiles agrees, still feeling goosebumps on his arms from Derek’s whole revelation about his feelings for Stiles. “And you’re not supposed to mention the tears, Thumper. You’re supposed to pretend that I’m a strong manly man who doesn’t go weak in the knees hearing the man he loves say romantic shit that’s better than any soulmate movie I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not really that big on pretending.” Derek tilts his head slightly so their lips press together in a sweet kiss. “I feel like I’ve spent my whole life trying to ignore what I felt for you because society told me I wasn’t supposed to have those kind of feelings for anyone other than a soulmate I might not even meet, but I eventually realized that I have to follow my heart because it’s the only way I’ll ever be happy.”

“That’s why you got weird after your mark scarred, isn’t it?” Stiles pulls back to look at Derek. “It wasn’t because you were mourning the soulmate you never found, but because you’d been planning to terminate the bond.”

“I felt guilty,” Derek admits. “I know it wasn’t my fault, but I still felt responsible considering I’d been planning to end the bond as soon as I turned thirty and could legally do so. I wondered if maybe my plans had somehow inadvertantly caused their death, but I know that’s not how it happens. Knowing that and accepting it weren’t so easy in the first couple of weeks, though. I almost told you then, so you’d understand how I was feeling, but I knew it wouldn’t be fair. I had to wait until I felt you were ready.”

“I’m kind of glad you didn’t tell me.” Stiles smiles wryly. “I probably would have felt partially to blame or something, and it might have made me more doubtful about everything. What was different tonight? What made you decide it was time? Because I’ve had feelings for you since I was like thirteen, and I’ve tried to hide them, but I don’t how successful I’ve been at it..”

“Why tonight? That’s easy.” Derek kisses him lightly before murmuring against his lips, “You finally didn’t look away.”

“Oh.” Stiles slowly smiles against Derek’s mouth before he presses forward, kissing him back because they’ve said all they need to say right now. The brochures and paperwork fall on the floor as they kiss, keeping it innocent even as his body reacts to Derek pressing against him so intimately when they fall back on the bed. There’s time for sex later. Time to get naked and figure out where to touch and how to touch, to learn everything that turns each other on and off.

Tonight’s not that time. Tonight’s for sweet kisses and gentle touching, for figuring out how to transition from friends to lovers with each soft caress. Tonight’s for loving each other with whispers of words long kept secret and for making out like schoolboys who know they can’t go too far yet. Tonight’s for snuggling together and holding each other tight as they fall asleep knowing they’ll never have to let go.


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh can you see it baby?_

_You don't have to close your eyes_

_'Cause it's standing right before you_

_All that you need will surely come_

_I'll be your dream I'll be your wish_

_I'll be your fantasy_

_I'll be your hope I'll be your love_

_Be everything that you need_

_I'll love you more with every breath_

_Truly, madly, deeply do_

**_Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden_ **

 

When Stiles enters the offices for Better Tomorrow, he sees Erica wrinkling her nose at Isaac. He’s not entirely sure how he feels about Isaac, a lawyer who started volunteering with them after Derek won the Carter case several months ago. While he’s happy that Derek’s reputation has convinced another legal person to devote time to a worthwhile cause, Isaac is pretentious, sarcastic, and fools everyone with an angelic smile that’s covering up a devilish personality. So, okay, Stiles likes him pretty well, but Isaac _does_ wear these ridiculous scarves and expensive straw hats—no, sorry, _Panama hats_ —despite the fact they’re nowhere near a beach where such headwear might be appropriate.

“Though I do hate to interrupt whatever scintillating conversation I’m sure the two of you are having,” Stiles says, shutting the door behind him and giving Erica and Isaac his best ‘I’m funny and you know it’ smile, “have we heard anything yet from the courthouse?”

“Any conversation we’re having is totally enthralling, and you know it,” Erica says, throwing her stress ball at him. “And, no, we haven’t, not like you wouldn’t get called before we ever did anyway.”

“Yeah, we know _Derek_ ,” Isaac stresses the name and bats his eyelashes while making kissy faces, “would call you first before anyone else.”

“Not today. I kept texting him to find out if the jury had come back yet, and he started ignoring my texts.” Stiles thrusts his lower lip out in a good sulk because Derek’s reduced him to behaving like a three year old. He sits on the corner of Erica’s desk and sighs dramatically. “So, I’m forced to wait like all of you plebeians for once.”

“My sympathy is rather low to begin with because you’re an ass, albeit an incredibly inspiring one when it comes to certain causes, but it becomes non-existent whenever you refer to us as commoners.” Isaac arches a brow in a rather weak attempt to imitate Derek’s judgmental brow. Stiles is so not impressed, though it does make him realize that Isaac is hero worshipping Derek even more than he originally thought.

“Now, Isaac, how can you be so cruel to such an adorable face?” Erica asks, reaching up to squish Stiles’ cheeks together. “Stiles can’t help the fact that he lacks normal social skills amongst friends. He uses up all his polite maturity around clients and the fawning masses. Anyway, Stiles can settle our debate since he’s a neutral third party. Darling sweetcakes dear, do you smell something awful?”

“Uh.” Stiles sniffs hesitantly, not entirely sure he wants to settle a debate if it’s about odors. He wrinkles his nose and nods. “I smell something pretty bad, though it’s not really strong.”

“See?” Erica lets go of his face so she can point at Isaac. “I told you I could smell it.”

“Good grief. It’s just gasoline…it doesn’t smell _that_ much,” Isaac mutters, scowling down at his shoes. “I got distracted and the stupid station didn’t have the automatic shut off, so I spilled on my shoes, but I wiped them off thoroughly. You shouldn’t even smell anything.”

“Shouldn’t but I do.” Erica gloats. “You need to go change your shoes or wash them better. I mean, _Jordan_ will be getting back from his appointment soon, and I’m sure you don’t want him to smell you stinking of gasoline, do you?”

“Wait. Isaac cares what Jordan thinks about his smell?” Stiles watches Isaac blush and scowl at them before storming off to the bathroom. “How did I miss that? Oh my God, Erica. I’m becoming unobservant and oblivious.”

“He’s very subtle, and you haven’t seen them together often. Besides, I’m just that awesome.” Erica shrugs as if she’s used to being better than everyone else. “And you’ve been rather distracted with a certain virile hunk of a lawyer the last few months, so I think you’ve earned a free pass on missing the beginning of the Isaac and Jordan relationship drama. Jordan’s still totally oblivious, of course, so you’ll be able to sit with me and eat popcorn during the juiciest parts.”

“Mmm. Derek _is_ a hunk, isn’t he?” Stiles grins when Erica punches his leg and shoves at him to get off her desk. He’s not sure how Jordan will react when he realizes he’s got an attractive man interested in him, especially since it’s been nearly a decade since his soulmate died. Time to mourn and possibly be ready to love again. He’s going to have to start paying more attention around the office, obviously, since he’s totally missed the Isaac-Jordan thing beginning.

“I don’t know which was better: the constant unrequited lusty stares and pining or the dopey romantic longing stares and eye sex you two constantly have now.” Erica winks at him when he ducks his head and smiles because, yeah, there’s a lot of dopey romantic stares _and_ eye sex. And touching and kissing and things he never honestly thought he’d have with anyone, much less Derek. Erica groans and shoves harder. “Go to your office, Stiles. I can’t handle the besotted goofiness at this time.”

“Love you, too, Erica.” He blows her a kiss before he heads to his office. “And let me know as soon as you hear anything. You know Derek’s stubborn enough to force me to wait just to teach me a lesson in patience and moderation.”

When Stiles gets to his office, he puts his bag on the desk then sits. He checks his phone again, just in case, but there aren’t any missed calls or texts. It’s nearly four, which means the jury has to be back by now. Derek had told him that he figured they’d get a verdict today, and Stiles knows Derek is usually correct in his guesses about that sort of that thing. He’s scrolling through his email when his intercom buzzes.

“Stiles, Hurricane Lucy is approaching. Expect landfall in three….two…one. Nice knowing you,” Erica murmurs before the intercom clicks off. Stiles looks up to see Lucy entering his office, looking like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue’s Casual Living issue.

“Stiles, have you heard anything yet?” Lucy asks as she walks around his desk and kisses both his cheeks. “Mumsy is waiting with bated breath to find out if Daddy is found guilty and loses everything she didn’t already take.”

“I haven’t heard anything.” Stiles shrugs when Lucy removes her sunglasses and makes a face. She starts to unfasten her jeans and he blinks at her. “Lucy, what are you doing?”

“I’m taking my pants off, darling.” Lucy looks at him like she’s questioning his intelligence as she slides her jeans down to her knees. Stiles leans forward when he sees things falling on the carpet, not entirely sure he’s seeing what he thinks is.

“Uh, Lucy, is that pink macaroni in your pants?” Stiles looks at her and sees that she’s wearing a very skimpy pair of panties so he turns his chair because that’s the gentlemanly thing to do when an attractive woman is stripping in your office.

“Yes! Isn’t it hilarious? I stopped by the daycare to have lunch with Allison—she’s so wonderful, Stiles, I’m simply over the moon that you introduced us because we’ve become such fast friends—and I helped with the crafts hour afterwards. The children were delightful, though very messy and ill-organized. I’ve felt those silly macaroni digging into my ass the entire drive here, so I simply _had_ to get them out of my pants.” Lucy laughs. “And it’s very sweet of you to look away as if I care about modesty one bit. I’ll be sure to tell your Derek that you didn’t ogle my scantily clad frame.”

“I don’t think I’m going to ask _how_ the pink macaroni got into your pants,” Stiles tells her, rubbing his temples in what’s becoming an increasingly familiar way since Lucy Davenport came into their lives. A rich socialite with more money than anyone needs but also a kind heart and a steel spine that’s supported Jackson through the entire trial and even testified against her own father just last week. He really likes Lucy, but there’s definitely a reason they all secretly call her Hurricane Lucy.

“That’s probably for the best, darling,” Lucy says solemnly, pulling her jeans back up and fastening them. “While we’re waiting for word, I do have official Better Tomorrow business to discuss if you have time.”

“My afternoon is actually free because I was hoping that we’d have a positive verdict to celebrate,” Stiles admits. He watches her sit down and open her huge purse, some designer type that Lydia would probably drool over. “What kind of official business are we discussing, Lucy?”

“Mother sold Daddy’s car collection, and she felt that the best use of the proceeds was a donation to your organization.” Lucy grins as she slides an envelope across the desk towards him. “After all, you’re doing so much to help Jackson during this great time of need that she feels it only appropriate to help provide the means to assist others with soulmark discrimination issues.”

“Your mother is an amazing woman, and I’m not merely saying that because of all the zeroes on this check.” Stiles stares at the amount on the check and can’t really believe it’s accurate, but Fiona Davenport is a freaking typhoon compared to hurricane Lucy.

Fiona—call me Fi—disagreed with her husband’s decision regarding Jackson and Lucy’s bond, and, from what Stiles has gathered, had disagreed with a lot of things Reginald had done during the years. The fact they’re soulmates had prevented her from divorcing him, but Jackson and Lucy’s decision had given her the nudge to do what she’d been wanting to do for thirty years. It turned out that the family fortune actually came from Fiona’s inheritance, so the rushed divorce left Reginald with only his company and a small amount of money to call his own. It was perfect karma, in Stiles’ opinion, and Fiona has actually been meeting with him weekly to discuss expansion plans for Better Tomorrow and hiring more full time staff in order to be able to help more people.

It’s just a little annoying that Stiles has to inadvertently thank Jackson for the recent donations and social connections that he and his organization have made in the past few months, but Stiles has to give credit where it’s due. He puts the check back in the envelope and stands up. “I’m going to give this to Erica so she can process it and give you a receipt.”

“Mumsy doesn’t care about write offs that much, darling, but do whatever is necessary for your paperwork.” Lucy leans forward to pick up the framed photograph that’s a recent addition to his desk and coos. “Is this you and Derek? Goodness, you’re adorable!”

“Yeah, it is,” he says, leaving the office to give Erica the check. He shows her the amount and watches her mouth fall open. “I know. Can you believe it?” he hisses quietly, doing a little shimmy dance because it’s a donation large enough to ease some of the concerns he’s had regarding the two recent trial cases that required covering expenses up front.

“Oh, are we dancing?” Lucy asks, twirling into the office and shaking the photograph at Stiles. “How old are you here? You look like _babies_!”

“We’re always dancing, Lucy Belle,” Stiles says, taking the frame from her and spinning her while she laughs. “And we are babies! That was taken when I was four and Derek was six. I’d never seen it before, but his mother gave us each a framed copy after we got together in July.”

“He’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything so wonderful,” Lucy whispers, grinning at Stiles even as she dabs at her eyes. “Those are the stories we should be told growing up, you know? About loving one another regardless of what’s on our wrists. I want to find a man who looks at me like your Derek looks at you, as if I’m the sun and the moon and the stars all rolled into one beautiful package.”

“It’s ridiculously romantic and nauseating, isn’t it?”

“Cora! What are you doing here?” Stiles lets go of Lucy to turn and hug Cora. “I thought you were still in Manhattan!”

“I came home last night, and my dork of a youngest brother texted me to stop by here at four,” Cora says, kissing his cheek. “Something about news to share? Are you two finally making it official?”

“What? No!” Stiles ducks his head and fusses with his shirt, which has come loose from his pants during his impromptu dance with Lucy. “It hasn’t even been three months yet, Cora. We’re not rushing into anything. It’ll happen when the timing is right, so don’t even think about nagging Derek.”

“Three months my ass. It’s been twenty-four years, and there’s even photographic evidence of that fact right there on Erica’s desk. It just took you both ages to get your heads out of your asses to realize what we all suspected all along.” Cora punches his arm. “You’d better not make my brother wait another twenty-four years before you put a ring on it, Stiles. I want nieces and nephews to spoil rotten so you’re forced to deal with them, at least before I’m thirty-five so I can still be the cool Aunt Cora.”

“You’ll always be the cool Aunt Cora, and Derek and I haven’t even talked about adoption so can we please put the brakes on serious relationship talks in the middle of my place of employment?” Stiles shakes his head. “I’m surrounded by bossy, domineering females who want to control my life.”

“Poor baby.” Erica blows him a kiss. “Not. Now quit your whining. We have more important things to discuss. How did the collection do in NYC, Cora?”

“It went really well.” Cora bounces in excitement, and Stiles easily moves past the overwhelmed feeling in order to hug her again.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, unable to stop smiling. This was Cora’s first showing for New York Fashion Week, and he knows how hard she’s been working on her latest accessories collection. “Did you have a lot of interest in everything? Line up any deals?”

“Of course. I didn’t show any designs that Lydia didn’t approve, and my wife has impeccable taste.” Cora sniffs haughtily before she notices Lucy and points at her. “It’s those that went over the biggest, though. I used them as accessories in the show, and there was some outrage from the more traditional attendees, but a lot of the younger consumers and more modern labels are really interested in them.”

“I’ve been telling everyone where I got mine. That it’s a Cora Hale exclusive, and they only wish they were lucky enough to have one,” Lucy promises, showing off the pretty jeweled band that she’s wearing like a bracelet over her soulmark. “Cosmo has even expressed interest in making it one of their Top Spring Trends, so your publicity from NYFW will probably help convince them it’s a must buy.”

“It’s really pretty stupid that people are acting so shocked at the idea that not everyone wants their soulmark on display. The world is changing, it’s getting better, in my personal opinion, and the emphasis on soulmarks isn’t so important to the younger generation. I’m happily mated with my soulmate, but that doesn’t mean I feel the need to let everyone I ever meet know my personal business.” Cora makes a face. “People just dislike change and feel threatened whenever the status quo isn’t stable. Anyway, I’m going to go grope my wife since my dorky brother isn’t here yet.”

“Do you think it means they won the case if Derek texted Cora?” Stiles asks after Cora goes to Lydia’s office, not really expecting an answer but still looking at Erica and Lucy curiously. “I don’t think he’d invite her over if he lost.”

“I think you need to go back to your office and drink a glass of something alcoholic because you’re starting to get fidgety,” Erica suggests, getting up and walking around her desk. “Did you take your Ritalin today?”

“Yes, Mom. And you know that I don’t get hyper when I forget. Well, I get hyper focused but not hyperactive.” Stiles looks at the clock. “I just don’t like it when Derek ignores me even if it’s my own fault because I wouldn’t stop texting him. Plus, this is a huge case, and it’d be really disappointing if we lose because Jackson actually did something selfless for once, which shows he’s not a complete asshole. Just like 98% asshole.”

The sound of the door opening behind him prevents Erica and Lucy from replying. He turns around, watching as Derek and Jackson come in. They both look very serious, and he doesn’t know what that means. Then he notices Derek’s lip twitch just slightly on the right, which tells him everything he needs to know.

“Holy shit. You won?!” He crosses the room quickly and jumps on Derek, relieved when his _boyfriend_ —he’s never going to get tired of that word being appropriate for Derek now—drops his briefcase in order to catch him. He kisses Derek thoroughly, not caring that they’re at work and surrounded by friends and Jackson. Derek doesn’t seem to mind, either, because he kisses Stiles back just as thoroughly.

“If I’d known we were going to get this kind of show after winning, I’d have suggested an earlier court date,” Jackson drawls, sounding so smug and full of himself that Stiles has to let go of Derek’s hair in order to flip him off. Jackson snorts. “Thanks for the offer, Stilinski, but I’d rather not get killed by Hale.”

“Boys, don’t make me get the spray bottle out again,” Lydia warns as she steps out of her office. “I thought you two finally getting together was going to stop all the sexual tension that’s been so suffocating over the years, not encourage an exhibitionism kink that I’d rather not have found out about.”

“I hate all of our friends,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s mouth, looking into his eyes and feeling his heart do the flippy floppy thing that it’s been doing all the time lately.

“I’d suggest finding new ones, but even those seem to be crazy,” Derek murmurs, giving a pointed look over Stiles’ shoulder, where Lucy is holding up a piece of paper with a 10 written in bright yellow highlighter. Jackson is shaking his head and scrolling through his phone.

“You won.” Stiles unwraps his legs from around Derek’s waist and stands up. “You actually won?”

“Yes, we won. The jury awarded double what Jackson asked for, too, so you’re looking at a new precedent that’s going to help a lot of people fight soulmark discrimination in the workplace.” Derek smiles, the big smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “We gave an interview after the verdict, so it’s probably going to be on the local news tonight.”

“Oh God. I’ll have to call my dad and ask him to record it because he’s the only person I know who still has a VCR.” Stiles takes Derek’s hand and squeezes, not letting go as he turns to look at Jackson. “Congratulations, Whittemore.”

“Thanks, _Stiles_.” Jackson smirks. “I couldn’t have done it without Derek and this place. So, have my actions spoken loud enough yet?”

“Eh, getting there, _Jackson_.” Stiles punches his arm lightly as he tugs Derek past the group. “I need to borrow this guy for a little bit. We’ll be back to figure out celebration plans in a little while.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Erica calls out.

“Is there anything you won’t do?” Lucy asks her curiously. “Oh, Jackson, Mother told me that she wants to meet you to discuss an investment opportunity tomorrow over breakfast. She thinks Daddy’s company needs some direct competition and that the time is right to give it to him.”

“Remind me to never get on Fiona Davenport’s bad side,” Derek says as they enter Stiles’ office. “She’s like a female version of _Keyser_ _Söze_.”

“She’ll take you out and your kids out and everyone you’ve ever met out.” Stiles grins. “I don’t think Fi is that vindictive normally, but Reginald deserves it.”

“Maybe not but I still wouldn’t want her as an enemy.” Derek smiles at him. “So, what’s so important that you had to pull me into your office, Tig?”

“Well, there’s something really significant that you need to know, Thumper.”

“Oh? Important sounds ominous. Is it good or bad? And stop calling me that. I don’t even have the dorky ears anymore.”

“It’s not that good. And you know you love your nickname so don’t even pretend..”

“Stiles, are you serious? I hate when you get cryptic and I can’t tell if you’re trying to tease me or not.”

“No, I’m Stiles.” Stiles snickers when Derek rolls his eyes. “But I need to tell you something that you’re probably not going to like.”

“You haven’t changed your mind and decided to run off with Raeken to star in his next movie, Mermen Go Deep, have you?” Derek tries to look grave but totally fails because he’s a big goober sometimes.

“No, I already told you that you’re never getting rid of me, Der, and especially not for that creep.” Stiles sighs dramatically before he says, “Lucy stripped in my office. I saw panties before I had a chance to look away.”

“I don’t want to know _why_ she was stripping, do I?” Derek’s eyebrows are judging now. “Is that all you saw?”

“Yes, that’s all, and I didn’t want to see that much. You know you’re my boo and the only bubble butt I want to see in red silk is yours.” Stiles reaches out to grip Derek’s tie and tugs him closer. “I just wanted you to know because we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“Your fondness for my butt is well-known,” Derek agrees, the tips of his ears reddening as he steps closer to Stiles. He reaches out to take Stiles’ left hand, bringing it up so he can press his lips against the scar on his wrist.

Even after the past few months of Derek touching and kissing his scarred soulmark, Stiles can’t help the shiver that runs through him at the intimate kiss. It’s a silent way that Derek says ‘I love you’, and it’s helping Stiles appreciate his soulmark in a way he never has before.“It’s an amazing butt,” Stiles murmurs, moving closer to Derek.

“You’re very vocal in your appreciation for it,” Derek says as he strokes his thumb over the spot he just kissed, “and much more.”

“We spent years keeping all that stuff to ourselves, so I feel it’s only right to make sure you know exactly how I feel and how much I love you.” Stiles leans in to kiss Derek, slow and gentle. When they pull apart, he smiles and brushes Derek’s fringe off his forehead. “I’m proud of you, you know?”

“I know.” Derek lets go of his hand and drags his knuckles down Stiles’ cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of his jaw. “I love you more than I put into words, Stiles. I try, but nothing really compares to the way I feel whenever I look at you, touch you, kiss you.”

“No one ever believes me when I tell them you’re a big romantic sap who seduces me with poetic words,” Stiles whispers, nuzzling Derek’s mouth but not kissing him yet. “But I’m kinda glad because it means I’m the only one who gets to know the real you.”

“You’ve always been the only one.” Derek tilts Stiles’ chin back and looks into his eyes. “From the moment we met until the day we die, you’re always going to be mine. I never needed a soulmark to tell me that you’re the other half of my soul because I knew it in my heart the first day Cora brought you home with her from day care.”

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Stiles sighs, leaning in to kiss Derek. This time, it’s a little dirtier, more passionate, and their hands start to wander until they’re pushed up against his wall. They pull apart finally, and he kisses Derek’s face, rubbing his cheek across his beard and trailing kisses along his jawline. “You should marry me, Derek Hale.”

Derek inhales sharply, his body tensing, and it takes Stiles a moment to realize what he said. Oh God. Did he really just…he opens his mouth, planning to take it back, to stammer about getting swept up in the moment and carried away, but he realizes that he doesn’t want to. He and Derek never lie to each other, after all, and Stiles isn’t going to start now. Derek stares at him, eyes wide and face flushed, looking vulnerable and uncertain in a way that makes Stiles love him even more, like that’s possible.

“You should,” he whispers, his words shaky and uncertain because he didn’t plan this. They haven’t talked about it, not just three months into their romantic relationship, but he knows Derek’s it for him. Like Derek said, since they first met, it’s been there. Soulmark or not, they’re soulmates in their own way, and they’ve already spent a lot of years reaching the point they’re at now. He doesn’t want to waste any more time, not when he could call Derek his officially, not when they could be married and talk about a family in a few years and have all those things he only ever dreamed were possible.

“I, uh, _Stiles_.” Derek clears his throat and ducks his head, burying his face against Stiles’ neck and holding him tight. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Uh, well, I think I just did,” Stiles points out, stroking Derek’s hair gently and giving him time to think. Taking time himself because _holy shit, what did he just do?_

“I always thought I’d be the one to ask.” Derek is barely whispering, his words softly spoken, trembling like Stiles’ body is right now. “In a year or so, when I felt you were ready to commit that way, something romantic with a ring and moonlight.”

“I’m ready now, Derek,” Stiles says, feeling suddenly emboldened with courage because he’s not lying. He really is ready. It’s something he’s thought about before, and Cora mentioning it earlier just seems to have started the ball rolling in his mind, but he doesn’t regret bringing it up to Derek. Not at all.

Derek pulls back and looks at him, staring intently into his eyes until his lips slowly curve into a smile. “I never heard you ask me anything, Tig.”

“Oh, that’s how we’re playing this then, Thumper?” Stiles reaches out to tweak Derek’s ear before he turns to face his desk. He fumbles with his tape dispenser and a pink post-it note for a moment before he turns back towards Derek, who is watching him curiously but also with excitement that he can’t really conceal.

“Still not a rabbit,” Derek mutters under his breath even as he tries to see what Stiles has in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Shh. Just stand there and look gorgeous. If you interrupt me, I might lose my nerve.” Stiles kisses Derek soundly before he drops to his knees. He takes Derek’s left hand and presses his lips against the scarred soulmark on his wrist, looking at him silently for a moment while he calms his nerves. “I love you, Derek. Even though we weren’t born with matching soulmarks, we found each other and showed destiny that it doesn’t know everything. I can’t imagine not having you in my life. I want to grow old with you and adopt bratty kids and travel and change the fucking world. So, what do you say? Wanna get married?”

Derek looks down and actually giggles when Stiles slides the post-it note ring onto his finger, the tape sticking to the hair on his knuckles before it finally lets go. “I’d say that you’re special and that your mom was right. You found someone who loves you for who you are and not just because some stupid mark tells them to.” Derek kneels down and grips the back of Stiles’ neck. “I say yes, Stiles. I want to marry you and grow old and change the fucking world.”

“He said yes!” Stiles screams it because he feels like telling the world that Derek’s just agreed to marry him. He kisses Derek right in the middle of a laugh, catching him off balance and they fall on the floor at the same time his office door opens.

“Yes to what?” Cora demands, joining them on the floor. Stiles just grins at her and shows her Derek’s hand, where the pink ring sits around his finger. “Stiles! You told me that wasn’t the surprise, you dickhead!” She starts crying and hitting him before hugging Derek. “I have to call Scott. He’s going to be so pissed he missed this.”

“We are definitely taking you ring shopping later, Stiles,” Lydia declares as she stares in horror at the bright pink band around Derek’s finger, sharing a look with Lucy before she kneels on the floor and hugs him. “I’m so happy for you both.”

Derek pulls him closer and holds him tight. Stiles laughs when Erica and Lucy crawl on the floor to join the hugging and happy tears, listening to Derek laugh as Jordan and Isaac join them and find out what’s happening. Everyone’s soon on the floor with a bottle of champagne open that Jackson brought in with him to celebrate winning his case, taking swigs of it from the bottle that they pass around while calling friends and family to share the news with them.

“You doing okay?” Derek kisses his neck and looks into his eyes. He smiles when Stiles nods at him, the love and happiness he’s feeling right now not requiring any words to express it. He moves his fingers around Stiles’ wrist, his thumb brushing over the scarred flesh covering his soulmark, the touch comforting and a steady reminder that society’s wrong. It’s possible to be more loved than anyone could ever imagine regardless of the fact Stiles lost his predestined soulmate before he was born.

Stiles kisses Derek gently, touching his face and grinning up at him. “Better than okay, Der,” he murmurs. “I’m tiggerific.”

 

 


	7. A Few Thank Yous

I just wanted to say a big thank you to Team What What in the Butt (aka Eeyore9990, Bleep0bleep, Crossroadswrite, & Annoyinglycute) for being such an amazing team!

Also! Hannah & Isobel held my hand as I wrote this story over the course of a weekend when it took over my muse & demanded I write until the words stopped. Their support meant a lot, and it, in addition to that of my teammates' encouragement, kept me from going crazy.

I also want to thank the organizers at Sterek Shelter for creating the Sterek Summer Spectacle. It produced some awesome Sterek creative works, and it made the last month of summer a lot of fun!

Thank you to everyone who took the time to kudos/comment and vote! Our team got second place overall in the spectacle, and I know that's because of all of you lovely readers!

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> If this story is one of your two favorites for this week's Sterek Summer Spectacle, please go [vote for team What What in the Butt](http://www.poll-maker.com/poll781013x73074375-31)!


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